


heart's calling

by TripsH



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip, so much tender loving and supportive iwaoi content bc that's my Ultimate Jam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripsH/pseuds/TripsH
Summary: Oikawa Tooru finds himself, his dream, somewhere he belongs, and the person who has always made him believe that home is more than just a place.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 68
Kudos: 212





	heart's calling

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been working on this for over two months now, slowly chipping away at getting it finished. It grew from wanting to explore a headcanon I had about these two in California to me smashing all of my feelings and headcanons about iwaoi into a 37k jumble. Am I surprised this happened? Not at all. 
> 
> I kind of thought that once I wrote what I'd always called my love letter to iwaoi a few months ago when I got back into writing again, I wouldn’t attempt a fic like that again, but then this showed up at my doorstep and I rolled with where it’s taken me. So here’s my canon compliant love letter to iwaoi now that haikyuu is over, filled with every emotion I feel about them. I feel like how much I love these two and how much they mean to me is a given, so I don’t need to gush, but please know that they mean the absolute world to me. I just really and truly love where canon took these two and I love to think about how they’d grow over the years. 
> 
> Taylor Swift calling love golden like daylight has been a huge inspiration in this 1) because I’m totally in love with references to gold and the sun and sky in anything ever and 2) if this isn’t an iwaoi lyric, I don’t know what is!
> 
> Here we go! I poured so much of my heart into this fic, and I'm so glad to finally be able to share it. I hope you enjoy it!

Oikawa falls in love with volleyball when he’s just a kid—seven and eager and completely enthralled with the way the server’s hand smacks against the ball to send it flying over the net in the center of the court, with the way the ball smacks against the floor with resounding certainty of earning a point as the other team struggles to receive it. A service ace. A point.

And just as it is with everything else Oikawa loves, he has to share that discovery with his best friend.

“My mom said we can’t play with a ball in the house anymore because you broke the lamp last time,” Iwaizumi tells him, matter of fact, in lieu of an actual greeting when Oikawa shows up at his house one Saturday morning with a brand-new volleyball in his hands. 

“What?! Iwa-chan, I did not!” Trying to play baseball inside one rainy day had not been their best idea in hindsight, considering when it’d been Iwaizumi’s turn to bat, Oikawa tried to catch the hit, but the ball bounced off his hand and crashed into the lamp instead. “You hit it!”

“Not my fault you couldn’t catch it.” Even though he may pretend to be uninterested, Iwaizumi’s eyes follow Oikawa’s motions as he throws the volleyball up and catches it in his hands again. “So your mom bought you one?”

“Yep! Now we can try it ourselves,” he says, quickly forgetting about the baseball incident in favor of holding up the volleyball he’d been begging his mom to buy him all week until she finally agreed. Of course, he’s been teased all week by his older sister, Minako, saying that the newfound interest won’t last and she expects to find the ball thrown to the side in his room in a few weeks, completely forgotten in favor of something else. 

But this time, she’s wrong. She couldn’t be more wrong.

“Who said I wanna do that with you? We were supposed to go to the park today, remember?”

“We still can.” Oikawa jumps up on the couch, bouncing on it. “Besides, you saw on TV the other day too when I showed you. You said you wanted to try too. We can be just like that now!” In the excitement, he loses his balance, a misstep from his perch on the couch cushions in Iwaizumi’s living room, and falls graceless, a sprawl of limbs as his back smacks against Iwaizumi’s outstretched legs.

“How’re we gonna play if you fall and get hurt, stupid?” Iwaizumi flicks his forehead. “C’mon. Get off my legs so we can go.”

He does, jumps to his feet again quickly and grabs the ball from where he’d dropped it on the floor. “Wait ‘til you see, Iwa-chan, I’m gonna serve like the guy on TV!” Oikawa spins it in his hands, before he throws it up in a poor imitation of what he’d seen on TV and—

“Oikawa, don’t—!”

The ball smacks against his palm, bouncing off it wildly—no control, no aim—and hits a nearby vase, shattering it upon impact.

Silence overcomes them as they stare wide-eyed at the broken pieces of glass on the floor.

“Boys, what happened in there?” Iwaizumi’s mom asking them what had happened from the other room shocks them back to life instead of staring at the mess before them.

“Oikawa, you idiot,” Iwaizumi hisses, breaking the silence between them. “I’m—”

“Hajime? Tooru? What are you doing?” Footsteps. Her footsteps as she takes their silence to mean something bad had happened and decides to check.

Iwaizumi looks like he may throttle Oikawa for breaking his mother’s vase. But somehow actions have always meant more than looks and even words. Iwaizumi’s eyes may be annoyed after the brief flash of panic at his mother’s question. His brow may be furrowed in anger as Oikawa begins to splutter out an apology, but through all of it—even if he’s mad, even though they’re going to get in trouble for it later—he grabs Oikawa’s hand, only stopping for a split second to let Oikawa grab the ball before they bolt out of the house. “Let’s go!”

And if anything, the little bit they spend playing around at the park is worth the trouble they get in later for breaking the vase and running off rather than telling the truth about it.

* * *

“Iwa-chan, this is terrible,” Oikawa says, hands on his hips as he looks in the mirror at the job Iwaizumi had done when they’d attempted to paint the red and white of Japan’s flag on their faces. The splotch of red paint Iwaizumi spilled on Oikawa’s shirt sits there, menacingly, as he stares at his reflection and the messy paint job they’d attempted in all of their ten-year-old excitement to watch Japan’s volleyball team play in the Olympics.

“Do it yourself next time, then.” Iwaizumi pushes his shoulder when Oikawa turns to face him. “Besides, it’s not like you did much better.”

Oikawa cringes when Iwaizumi gestures to the paint on his bedroom floor that had spilled when Oikawa grabbed for it. After a hasty job at cleaning it up, they’d just worked together to push the bed out a little bit to cover it up. Bury the mess away, never to be unearthed, and the big red splotch of paint on his bedroom floor will never have to be spoken of again. Just like that time they’d accidentally put a hole in the wall in Iwaizumi’s closet. Nothing to see once they’ve covered it up, so they’ll never speak of it again.

“I still did better than you!” Oikawa huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “We should have asked Minako to paint them for us.” His older sister moved out for college almost two years ago, but she’s visiting for the weekend and probably would have done it if they asked her to. Even if she might have grumbled about it.

“That’s what I said, but you wanted us to do it on our own.” Despite the argument, Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s hand. “C’mon. It doesn’t matter now. We’re gonna miss the game if we don’t hurry.”

“Right!” And just like that, he forgets about the mess of paint and the objectively terrible job they’d done in favor of what they’d been doing it for, the sentiment behind it. So the two of them clamber down the stairs and into the living room, Oikawa scrambling to turn the TV on.

Contrary to Minako’s belief that volleyball would only be an interest that lasts a few weeks, it’s actually something that still sits at a firm epicenter in his life a few years later. Now Oikawa’s ten, sitting on the floor of his living room, eyes glued to the TV. The red and white of Japan’s flag painted on their faces as they watch the Olympics.

The match is Japan versus Argentina. Red versus blue. It’s exciting, not only because this is the first time they’ve really been old enough to care about and actively watch the Olympics, but it’s also the first one that’s occurred since the two of them started playing volleyball themselves.

It’s especially exciting to watch this match too, because they’d already seen Japan play Argentina at the exhibition match they went to a while back. It’d singlehandedly been the most exciting thing he’s ever done—watching a match up close instead of on TV, being inspired to become a setter from that one match alone, meeting Jose Blanco briefly after.

It’s like a repeat of that day all over again, except now they’re a little older and Oikawa’s totally immersed himself in becoming a setter too. That’s what he wants. To him, it’s the most exciting position, the one he wants to excel at. So he’ll keep working, keep learning, keep playing.

“I wanna play on a court that big.” His eyes are wide, excited when he blurts out the thought, the dream. It’d be so cool. He throws his hands up in the air, nearly smacking Iwaizumi, who sits beside him, in the face. “I wanna play on the biggest court we can, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi doesn’t knock Oikawa’s hands away like he normally might. Instead, he leans over, nudges Oikawa’s shoulder, and when Oikawa turns his head he’s met with the determined grin he’s known for as long as he can remember. Constant, stable and steady presence in his life.

“Okay. One day, let’s make it there too.” 

Oikawa smiles. “Promise?”

Iwaizumi nods. “Promise.”

“Then let’s do it!”

Back then, it may seem like only a silly childhood promise. Something so far out of reach, slim likelihood of being obtainable for the two of them. Something easy to dream of, before things change and grow tough. Innocence makes it seem so simple, easy as breathing, to imagine themselves all grown up on an Olympic court for all the world to see. Then, red and white won’t be painted on their faces as spectators, but on their backs as participants.

But even if it is just a silly, childish dream, it’s nice to think about. That one day they could do that together. That they share a dream and can work to make it come true, standing side by side when they do.

So Oikawa dreams. He wants. And he works. Works hard and doesn’t forget that promise they made when they were ten. He never forgets it.

* * *

Normally, Oikawa shares everything with Iwaizumi. Whether it’s mundane and simple or a secret. A dream or something he loves with all his heart. There’s never been any hesitation. No fear because he knows Iwaizumi will listen to whatever he has to say, will actually be interested in what Oikawa shares with him unlike other people who may just pretend to care.

Except for this time. This time, he’s not loving something like volleyball or a show he saw on TV or a place he wants to go.

This time, he falls in love with a presence who’s stood by his side for all of his fourteen years, a voice telling him he’s enough, and a hand grounding him, pulling him back to steady and stable ground when he’s strayed from that. Someone who goes toe-to-toe with his insecurities and his fears and makes someplace dark and uncertain a whole lot brighter, golden sunlight streaming into a place it’d been blocked from.

This time, he falls in love with the person he’s always wanted to share everything with. His best friend for as long as he can remember. Iwaizumi.

It’s not a quick, reckless nosedive into love. It’s a slow, free fall spent noticing all the things and moments that have brought him to this realization—fourteen years of memories and time spent together. It’s not a loud declaration, a clap of thunder and flash of lightning. It’s a steady stream of light, silent realization, a soft, _oh, there you are. I’ve found you._

Loving Iwaizumi is different than loving something like volleyball, though. Mainly because one thing he can take for himself and the other he can’t. In fear of ruining what they already have with something new. He can love volleyball freely and loudly and totally. He can only love Iwaizumi in silence, can die over that feeling in secret, private moments between the two of them—

There’s one night in junior high after Iwaizumi pulled him from the gym and dragged Oikawa back to his house. They’re too tired to do much else besides get ready for bed and flop into Iwaizumi’s bed without any argument of who sleeps where.

They lay there, facing each other, uncharacteristically silent, something that’s been overcoming them a lot more lately. Silence or bickering. It’s usually one of the two.

“You’re so much more than what you think,” Iwaizumi finally murmurs, hand tangling in Oikawa’s hair after he pulls him closer.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Oikawa whispers against his chest, not protesting the close contact. A while back, they’d said they’re too old to be cramming into the same bed now like they had when they were kids. But fourteen years of building a habit are hard to break. No matter how double-edged it may be. He can choose to give this up when this contact, these moments, are something he craves, or keep doing it and come to terms with the race of his heart for something he’s too afraid to ask for. Just another thing he feels he can’t ask to take from Iwaizumi.

“Yeah, it is,” Iwaizumi says. “Because I’m right. You might not see it, but I do.”

Sometimes, he doesn’t get how anyone can think that. How Iwaizumi can think that. Because some days Oikawa feels fine… good, even. Yet others, he wants to apologize for the unfortunate burden Iwaizumi’s been stuck with merely by continuing to be his friend, by sticking with him like he always has.

All their lives, it seems Iwaizumi is the one who indulges whatever Oikawa wants. He’s honest, a little rough sometimes when he tells it like it is, but still warm and familiar and comforting, with millions of ounces of love to give. And sometimes, Oikawa feels like he does nothing but take that, take Iwaizumi’s hand extended to him and drag him backward into murky, icy cold waters no one else wants to step into. Why would anyone want that? To stand by his side? Someone so bright doesn’t deserve to be thrown all of Oikawa’s emotional baggage and hang-ups. 

“Sorry you got stuck with me, Iwa-chan.”

A hand on his shoulder pushes him backward, enough so Iwaizumi can look him in the eye, can tell him, “Quit saying that crap, Oikawa. I didn’t get stuck with you. I’m here with you because I want to be.” 

Most of the time, he believes that. Believes that the way he cares for Iwaizumi is equally reciprocated. But other times, doubts claw at him, crack through the certainty that’s settled in his heart and tell him anything but that.

And maybe that moment, Iwaizumi’s heartfelt, honest words are the final piece in the puzzle that’s been building as he’s slowly come to the realization of how he feels about Iwaizumi, the slow fall of noticing a racing heart and warm cheeks and the desire to be touched, to be held. Some may call it a silly teenage crush that will fade with time, something only brought on by so many years of familiarity that it was bound to be dwelled upon at least once. But Oikawa knows it’s not so easily dismissed.

Because Oikawa loves intensely. He’s the kid who keeps tiny mementos of what may seem insignificant to others but means the world to him. He’s the person who grows attached to the tabs he has open on his laptop over time and feels guilty closing them out. He’s worn toys into the ground as a kid because he played so frequently with the ones he’d loved most. He chooses to practice extra all the time—at first, just because he enjoys it so much, doesn’t want to put the ball down once he’s picked it up—and now, because he’s afraid of losing volleyball if he’s not good enough to keep doing it in the future, in the way he wants to.

People like to think he’s frivolous and trivial and materialistic, but he’s not. He just loves with all of himself. Passionately and completely. With all of his heart.

And that’s how he loves Iwaizumi too. In all the moments they’ve shared together, in all the memories they’ve made. Oikawa loves him with all of his heart.

This is different than the easygoing, golden days from their childhood when there was nothing to worry about. No feeling like his heart was going to burst from his chest. Back then, he used to think kissing was gross when he’d seen it on TV or when other kids at school would try to sneak it when they didn’t think anyone was looking or the few times he’d accidentally catch Minako kissing her boyfriend. Now that he’s older and has someone he’d want to do that with, all he wants to do is try it for himself.

He longs for it in a way he hasn’t longed for anything ever. It feels secret in a way that nothing ever has between himself and Iwaizumi before. Like if he says anything, it could break them apart rather than bring them closer together. And that’s the last thing he wants.

So Oikawa keeps quiet. Doesn’t share how he feels with the person he normally shares everything with because he’s afraid it will ruin them, will ruin what they have. It’s an easy trade. Keep his mouth shut and his emotions in check in favor of keeping things steady between them, like it’s always been.

Okay, maybe it’s not so easy, and he slips up more often than not, but Oikawa’s not about to let falling in love with Iwaizumi and being unable to keep that to himself to cause him to lose Iwaizumi altogether. He doesn’t want to— _can’t_ —lose one of the best things he’s always had, that he’s lucky enough to have.

* * *

“You okay?” Iwaizumi asks months later, standing on top of the steps outside leading to Kitagawa Daiichi’s gym. The last bit of light left on in the gym spills onto the pavement, vestiges of gold cutting through the dark night.

Oikawa, two steps below him, nods. “I’m good now.” Among thoughts of what had happened, what Iwaizumi said, how Oikawa told him he now feels invincible, there’s something else. Another feeling just as strong, just as powerful, as he stares up at his best friend. The person his heart has known for as long as he can remember and who he loves. _I want to be with you forever_ , his heart tries to reconcile with his mind.

“Yeah, glad to hear it.” Iwaizumi jumps down the last two steps to stand at Oikawa’s side, nudges Oikawa’s shoulder in a playful gentleness. Things feel calmer now. Like there’s now a barrier up to keep raging waters from crashing into him, leaving him stuck in one place to drown in the insecurities he’s been living with for too long. They’re not gone, but things settle. Oikawa can breathe again. “I couldn’t handle much more of you acting like an idiot about this.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Iwaizumi’s hands settle on Oikawa’s shoulders, only a tiny gap of distance between them as they stand face to face. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I know it’s been a rough time for you, but you’re not alone. And I wouldn’t tell you I believe in you if I didn’t mean it, okay?”

His own hand rests on Iwaizumi’s arm, squeezes it gently before Iwaizumi can pull away, out of reach again. For now, Oikawa just wants to savor this moment, this feeling, this closeness. “Iwa-chan… thank you. Thanks for always being with me.”

“Don’t thank me for that. How many times do I have to tell you that I want to be here?” He squeezes Oikawa’s shoulders. “You’re my best friend, Tooru.”

“You’re my best friend too.” Even if that’s all they’ll ever be, it’s okay. It’s okay because he’ll have Iwaizumi in his life and by his side as they work to achieve all of their dreams together.

And now that doesn’t seem so far out of reach anymore. In a way, it feels like he’s heart’s been peeled down to the same it had been as a kid—hopeful, determined, like anything is possible. Like he’s invincible. Like together, they can be.

“C’mon.” Iwaizumi finally lets go of Oikawa’s shoulders, fingers wrapping around his wrist instead as he starts to walk down the steps, pulling Oikawa close to his side. “It’s late. Let’s go home.”

* * *

Time passes. Things change. High school’s better than junior high, for the most part. Oikawa’s better at dealing with losses and the insecurities—while intrusive and still present—are a little easier to push down than they had been at their height a few years ago.

But while some things have changed since then, others have stayed the same.

He’s been to the finals in multiple tournaments. His team’s been so close to Nationals, but never have been able to take a victory that will cement the opportunity to go there.

Second place again. Good, but never good enough. His fingertips always brush against something he can never quite reach—the sky, someone else’s back.

After his last run in the summer’s InterHigh, Oikawa finds himself sitting on a swing at the park near his house. Iwaizumi’s sitting on the swing next to him, and Takeru’s over with another kid from his team while they keep an eye on him after his practice earlier before taking him back to Oikawa’s house so Minako can pick him and his friend up.

In the quiet between them, it’s easy to let his thoughts slip to darker things. Like how he’s eighteen now, in his last year of high school. Now there’s no buffer, no more safety net of _next time, next year._ In just a few months’ time, high school will be over and then what? A lot of his classmates and teammates already know halfway into the school year what they plan to do after high school’s over and Oikawa still has no concrete plan in front of him.

(“You’re so much more than this,” Iwaizumi told him one night last year after another loss, another failure, gesturing to the gym around them. “You’re gonna do great things no matter where you end up. I’ve known that from the beginning. When are you going to see it too?”)

Iwaizumi had said it, and for a brief moment in time, Oikawa thinks he believed him, believed the heartfelt words he’d said when they were the last two in Aobajousai’s gym that night, the harsh fluorescent lighting the only accompaniment to the same conversation they’ve been having over and over since their early teenage years back in Kitagawa Daiichi.

But sometimes, it’s hard to believe that assurance. Sometimes, he’ll find himself thinking maybe _this_ is as high as he’ll ever get: sitting on a swing at a park in Miyagi, looking up at the sky, longing, wanting, chasing after a dream that seems impossibly out of reach.

He’s learned that promises can’t always be kept and wanting isn’t always enough. How’s he supposed to believe he has a future beyond this if he’s been trying for years and can’t even make it out of a tournament in his prefecture to get to Nationals?

“Hey…” Iwaizumi’s voice cuts through the silence between them accompanied by the creak of the swing as he moves it sideways, nudges Oikawa’s swing with his own. “You alright? You’ve been quiet.”

“Iwa-chan, you’re always the one telling me to take care better care of myself, but how am I supposed to do that when you’re trying to knock me off the swing?” It’s a deflection from Iwaizumi’s question, and a bad one at that. Too obvious. Oikawa _knows_ it’s obvious, and he knows Iwaizumi sees it for exactly what it is too.

“Whatever you’re thinking about…”

Iwaizumi knows him too well. Not that it’s a bad thing, but…

“Will you miss it? Playing?” Oikawa finally asks, not only to fill the space between them with something, but because he’s genuinely curious. It’s not what he’d been thinking about in the moment, but it’s a thought that’s been on his mind lately. However they end up placing in their last stretch of high school volleyball, when it is over, it’ll be the last time Iwaizumi plays competitively. The last time he and Oikawa will stand side by side as part of the six players on the same side of a court. The last time Oikawa will set to his best friend, his other half on the court, the person he knows he can turn to and trust with everything he has whether that’s in volleyball or everything outside of that.

“Yeah, of course. But it’s not like I’m giving it up entirely.” He smiles like he’s thinking of his own future, what he wants to study and the field he wants to work in and where he wants to go. A few weeks ago, Iwaizumi had told him that he’s planning to go to college in California. A whole other continent. “Besides, I’ll still have you and all of your games to watch, wherever you’re going.”

Yeah, that’s provided he gets an offer from somewhere, _anywhere_ interested in him or he finds somewhere that he can break into. And at this rate, that seems far out of reach.

Still, he puts on a fake smile, teases, “Well, I guess if you were gonna live vicariously through anyone, I’m the most perfect person to do that through.”

“Don’t push it.” Despite the teasing, there’s still a frown on Iwaizumi’s lips, his forehead creased in worry. He’s sure it’s in the tone of his voice, the fake smile. Iwaizumi knows all those things and how to spot them now, after eighteen years of friendship, to the point where Oikawa doesn’t even know why he bothers trying to hide them from Iwaizumi in the first place.

“Hey…” Iwaizumi reaches over, hand wrapping around Oikawa’s gripped around the chain suspending the swing in the air. “You…”

“Uncle Tooru! Hajime!” Takeru’s voice pulls them from the conversation. He’s run over to them, stands in front of the swing set, watching them with curious eyes. Probably wonders what they’re talking about, since he usually doesn’t see them look so serious. “Can you show us how to serve the ball like you do?”

“You just finished practice a little bit ago.” Despite the words, he’s still ready to stand up and do it. Maybe getting his hands on the ball, even if it’s only for a few minutes, will distract him.

“Don’t turn into your uncle, Takeru,” Iwaizumi warns, his hand still wrapped around Oikawa’s because neither have pulled away yet, like they don’t want to break the thread of contact between them. “I used to drag him out of the gym because he wouldn’t stop practicing.”

“That was a long time ago,” Oikawa says, eyes flitting away from Takeru standing in front of him to Iwaizumi instead. And he almost wishes he hadn’t because he can’t control the stutter of his heart, the hitch of his breath, the desire to push away the feeling that always wants to overwhelm him but he never lets it get that far. Never lets it push past the confines of his heart even though it so desperately wants to live, to breathe.

That’s something else that hasn’t changed—his feelings for Iwaizumi. If anything, they’ve only gotten stronger over time.

But that’s out of sight, out of mind. If he doesn’t think about it, doesn’t drag those feelings to the surface, he can cover it up. Pretend they don’t exist. Just like when they were kids and would hide messes they made from their parents. Once it was hidden away, they never spoke of it again.

Yeah, if _only_ it was that easy. Oikawa’s gotten so good at burying how he feels, that he lives with what it’s like pining after someone he doesn’t think he can ever have. But sometimes, he can’t help but look. Can’t help how enamored he is with Iwaizumi’s smile and how good he looks, especially when the sun hits just right in the early evening like this. A golden halo of light behind them from the late afternoon sunlight. 

“Hey.” Iwaizumi squeezes Oikawa’s hand, reminding him they’re still touching, before Oikawa can stand up and follow Takeru back over to where his friend stands. The distraction clearly hadn’t made him forget what they’d been speaking about before. “Wherever you go after all this, you’re gonna do great. You’re gonna be on the national team one day, and I’m gonna be right there with you because we’ll both make it there, okay?”

Oikawa nods, and this time, the smile doesn’t feel so forced. Iwaizumi’s hand wrapped tightly around his own makes him feel better about the whole thing, whatever comes next. His unwavering confidence and faith in Oikawa and everything he is makes him think that maybe he is worth that, maybe he can do it, maybe he will figure it all out.

“Promise, Iwa-chan?” he asks, an echo to when they’d first made that declaration as kids.

Iwaizumi nods. “Promise.”

Even when they let go of each other’s hands and stand up to follow Takeru, they don’t pull far away from each other. Just like it’s always been between them—a gap so tiny, inviting the opportunity to close it.

And Oikawa could. He could do that. Could grab Iwaizumi’s hand now and tell him how he feels, reveal every emotion he’s kept safely tucked away for four years now.

But he’d always said he’s not going to reach out and grab Iwaizumi’s hand only to pull him backward to where Oikawa stands. Especially not now. Not with Iwaizumi going to California in the near future. Not when it could mess everything up between them in these last few months they have together like this.

He tugs on Iwaizumi’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go before my bratty nephew interrupts us again.”

“I heard that, Tooru!” Takeru shouts.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it!”

For a moment, he forgets his worries. Standing with Iwaizumi and Takeru makes him forget. For a moment, he thinks he’ll figure it out, that it will all be okay in the end.

* * *

The answer Oikawa finds to the question of _what’s next?_ is unexpected, but welcome.

As he grapples with what to do and where to go, the intrusive idea, the lie he tells himself is that it could be easier to just quit. To give up and say he’d had a good run, gave all he possibly could until there was no path forward.

But there’s part of him that knows if he quits after high school, whether he finally makes it to Nationals or not, regrets will claw at his back for the rest of his life. He’ll look back ten, fifteen, twenty years from now and have another reason to hate himself because he took the easy way out and quit when it got too difficult, when he felt overwhelmed by the idea that there seemed to be no immediate path for him here to follow because he could never win out against people like Kageyama and Ushijima.

But then, it clicks into place, the right key finally fitting into a lock to allow him to push the door open and move forward instead of remaining stuck in one place.

Maybe this is what fate is—a golden opportunity to meet and speak with the person who’d inspired him to become a setter in the first place. Someone who had made him feel so certain about his path as a kid has the opportunity to pull him out of it when he’s at a point where he doesn’t know what to do.

A figure so intertwined with his childhood dreams and joys and love gives him the sound advice and truth he’d needed to hear. And that’s his answer. Oikawa doesn’t want to quit playing volleyball and call his run a good try—not when he can give so much more and go so much further. He wants to run as far as he can until he can’t anymore. Wants to touch the sky.

Oikawa quickly and easily decides that he wants to learn from Jose Blanco and that’s his best path forward.

But there’s the twist that’s unexpected. Blanco’s contract with the Tachibana Red Falcons ends after this season and he’s going back to Argentina to coach a team there. And if Oikawa wants to learn from Jose Blanco, he’d have to go to Argentina too.

He’d always thought he might play overseas at some point anyway, since that’s what happens in so many players’ careers. Switching teams, moving countries. So really, this would just be earlier than expected, but it’s still a bit terrifying to think of going to a different country all on his own when he’s eighteen.

But while it’s terrifying it also feels _right_. Like this is a good decision for him, the sign he’s been waiting for when he hadn’t known what the hell he wanted to do here in Japan.

For the first time in the past few weeks, he feels at peace with himself. Like he knows where he wants to go. Where he _should_ go. Like whatever happens next, he’ll be okay. He’ll figure it out.

He can breathe again, and when he looks up at the sky, the golden sun overhead, he doesn’t see a place he’ll never touch, a depressed shroud covering a dream he’ll never have. This time, he can see a bright future, options, a path in front of him that he doesn’t have to race down in fear of getting lost or left behind. This is entirely his, and right now, Argentina’s right before him, within his grasp, calling for him. Speaking directly to his heart and telling him to go. _Go, go, go_ _._

His heart has always been something he’s trusted, something he knows he can follow, and he’s ready. Ready for whatever may face him in the next few months, the next few years. Ready for this to take him where he wants to go.

* * *

The first person he can think of telling is Iwaizumi. Maybe it should be his parents, but the thought of going home and telling them he wants to move to Argentina to play volleyball doesn’t seem appealing. Besides, he always shares things with Iwaizumi first, always chooses him before anyone else. So when he arrives at Iwaizumi’s house, about to knock on the door only for it to be flung open before he can and he and Iwaizumi nearly bump into each other, he grins.

“I have something to tell you,” they blurt out at the same time before bursting into laughter.

“I was just coming to find you,” Iwaizumi says, grabbing onto Oikawa’s shoulders so they don’t fall. “I texted you. Did you see?”

Oikawa shakes his head. “Didn’t look at my phone. But maybe that telepathic connection you always say we don’t have really does work after all?”

“Yeah, okay.” Iwaizumi grabs his hand. “Since you’re here, wanna just stay over? My mom’s making dinner right now.”

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

The path up the stairs to Iwaizumi’s room is well-worn, taken so many times over the years, their feet thundering up the stairs as they’d run up here together when they were kids.

“So, what’d you wanna tell me?”

Oikawa sits down on the bed across from Iwaizumi, feeling perfectly at home here, just like he always has. “You go first.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Yeah, okay. It’s not a huge deal or anything. I just wanted to tell you I sent in my application to Irvine.”

“What do you mean that’s not a huge deal?” Oikawa closes the small bit of distance between them, pulls Iwaizumi into a hug. “That’s amazing, Iwa-chan. I’m sure you’ll get in. They’d be dumb not to accept someone like you.”

“Thanks. I hope you’re right.” His arms settle around Oikawa too, holding him close in the hug. The contact lingers for too long, much longer than it should between them.

“Iwa-chan, I _know_ I’m right,” Oikawa insists when they finally break the embrace.

“It feels real now,” Iwaizumi murmurs. “Kind of scary, actually. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited, but a little scared for what’s next too.”

“I know.” His fingers rest on top of Iwaizumi’s, squeezing gently. “But you’re gonna be amazing. I know you are.”

“Hey, so what’s your news?” He doesn’t pull his hand away from Oikawa’s touch, instead waits to hear what he has to say.

“Oh, right! My turn!” He smiles, as Iwaizumi shifts, palm flipping over so they’re brushing, so close to their fingers intertwining together. “I think I found where I want to play after high school.”

“Yeah? Where?”

“Argentina.”

Oikawa’s never been afraid to tell Iwaizumi anything. Well, besides the fact that he’s been in love with him for years, but that’s a little different. If it’s a decision about his future, about something important to him, he knows there’s nothing to be afraid of with Iwaizumi.

Other people will probably doubt him and his choices rather than support him. It’s easy to imagine what people might say, how they might judge him:

_That’s so far._

_You’re going to go all alone to another country just for volleyball?_

_Is it even worth it? Why can’t you do that here?_

_Are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want?_

_What if you regret it?_

He might have to face all of those questions when he tells his family. His parents. His sister. He doesn’t know what their reactions will be to the very sudden presentation of moving to Argentina straight out of high school, but he thinks they’ll understand. Minako’s talked to him about the future, knows things he doesn’t share with his parents. She’s known for years now he’s in love with Iwaizumi, knows how important volleyball is to him and that he wants to make it his future. She’ll understand. She’ll support him. She always does.

His parents may take a little longer to warm up to the idea. They might not want him to go so far away, to put himself into such an unknown, a situation riddled with what they may view as unstable, unsteady ground that he could crash through at any moment. A choice that he might regret. But when it comes down to it, they’ll support him too. He knows they will.

“Meeting went well, then?” Iwaizumi asks. And instead of being worried about Oikawa or questioning him, he doesn’t hesitate at all. Just smiles at him, his touch never wavering. “I’m happy for you. I always knew you’d figure it out.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t voice a single one of the things Oikawa knows some people will have to say to him. Or anything even resembling it. He doesn’t judge the decision or question how certain he is because he knows that Oikawa wouldn’t want to choose this if he wasn’t certain, knows that he wouldn’t bring it up if he wasn’t serious about this.

Oikawa nods. “Thanks. I just… I know it’s a big difference from what I thought I’d be doing, but I think it’ll be good for me. So good, Iwa-chan.”

And Iwaizumi probably remembers too, that Oikawa hadn’t done any of that for him either. When Iwaizumi told him about California and that he planned to apply to a school there, Oikawa hadn’t voiced any doubts or uncertainties. Hadn’t protested or asked Iwaizumi why. Instead, he hugged Iwaizumi, told him that he was happy for him and of course he’d miss him, but that wouldn’t change anything between them.

Even though he’d been terrified with the very real fact that in a few months time they’d spend the first real length of time apart from each other, he knows that this is what Iwaizumi wants, and Oikawa would support him, stand by his side through _anything._ Whether it be here in Japan or California or fucking Antarctica. He’s always going to be there for Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi’s hand settles on Oikawa’s cheek, grin on his lips. “Hey, we’re gonna be way closer than we initially thought.”

Oikawa nods. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.” He looked it up on the way over here. It’s only a four hour time difference between Argentina and California instead of the sixteen hours between Japan and California. They’ll still be thousands of miles apart, and even though they’ve always planned to keep up with each other no matter what, being in time zones not so far apart will make it a little easier on them.

“That’s amazing, y’know. You’re gonna kill it over there. I know you will.”

Oikawa nods. Normally, he’d wonder if that’s true, if what Iwaizumi’s saying will actually happen. But this time, he doesn’t suffer from the stabbing doubts and insecurities he might normally feel. For once, he believes this might be true. That he can and will do well once he gets there.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan. I know you’re gonna do amazing too.”

Iwaizumi nods, and it’s like the passing of praise between each other, the assurances that their choices for the future will work out in the end, acts as a promise too. A promise that they can do this. That they can make it and succeed at whatever they put their minds to.

“Until then, we’ve got other things to think about.” Their fingers tangle together. Iwaizumi squeezes Oikawa’s hand. “We’ve still got this tournament to get through, and I’m gonna take you to Nationals this time.”

Oikawa laughs, squeezes Iwaizumi’s hand back as a confirmation of that promise, the same thing they’ve been promising each other for years now. This may be the last chance they have at that, but he’s ready. They both are. “Not if I take you there, Iwa-chan. If this is the last year we play together, I’m gonna make it worthwhile.”

“I’m holding you to it.”

“You can count on me!” 

* * *

High school doesn’t turn out the way he expects it to. In more ways than one.

For a long time, Oikawa’s told himself he’ll have his final, triumphant moment when he wins against everyone in front of him, when he finally can say he did it—he made it to Nationals. He _was_ good enough to do it. All his hard work and years and years of effort has paid off.

But the story doesn’t pan out that way.

Instead, he loses his last match of high school, his last match with this team in the semifinals. He can’t claim victory against Shiratorizawa _or_ Karasuno. Nationals is a horizon he never reaches.

Whenever he’s thought about this moment, stressed about it, put an endless amount of weight on his shoulders trying protect himself from ever having to deal with it, he never liked to dwell on how upset he thought he’d be.

But when all is said and done, he’s okay.

A few years ago, even a few months ago, he would have had a hard time believing that. Might not have been able to tell himself that he’d be okay. That he will be okay.

But now, he doesn’t have any regrets. He can’t be mad at himself, can’t beat himself up. If this had been the end of his volleyball career, then maybe he’d feel differently, but somehow, thinking of what lies ahead for him in just a few months—Argentina, a pro team, training under Jose Blanco—somehow he doesn’t feel the way his younger self expected him to.

Because he has a direction, somewhere to go, a goal in mind.

 _Still_ …

 _Will you miss it?_ he had asked Iwaizumi a few months back, knowing that even if they did make it to Nationals that time, their high school volleyball careers would end eventually. Then they’d move on to whatever’s next.

But in a strange way, Oikawa thinks he’ll miss it too. He’s still playing volleyball, planning on continuing his career for as long as he can, but there are things he’ll miss about what he’s always known here—the hand pressed to his back in a team huddle or in the locker room, a silent support and encouragement. He’ll miss the certainty of setting the ball to someone he knows would always be there, who he could trust with all of his heart. He’ll miss the crash against his back, the arm slung proudly across his shoulders to celebrate a victory, whether it’s in something as simple as a practice match or a tough, grueling high-stakes game.

And he’ll miss all of the people he’s experienced this with. Teammates, friends, who he can say he counts on and believes in, putting all his faith in them. The same people who can flip the script on him and tell him _they_ believe in _him,_ that the bonds they’ve built and trust they have in each other always goes both ways. Oikawa will miss Iwaizumi standing beside him before a game, between sets, or during a time out. The gentle way he’ll nudge Oikawa’s shoulder, pulling him out of whatever dark thought he may have caught himself in. The way he’ll say something light, but supportive like _‘If you lose us a point, let’s go and take it back.’_

For eleven years he’s been playing with Iwaizumi. Someone who knows his ins and outs. Someone who has been playing volleyball with him from the very beginning. And suddenly, he won’t have that. Of course he’ll miss that.

Because is there really anyone else he knows and loves and trusts to the level of pointing across the court before setting the ball to him? It’s going to be weird feeling his new teammates out, finding his place somewhere that’s totally foreign to him. But he’ll be okay. Even if it’s difficult. Even if it’s lonely.

“I’m never gonna find another you in Argentina, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa blurts out without really thinking about what he’s saying as they’re walking back from watching Karasuno face Shiratorizawa. From witnessing Karasuno accomplish what had seemingly been impossible for years—winning against a team no one else could beat, that the two of them could never beat.

Just one time, he would have loved for that to be them. Just once.

But maybe they’re meant for more than that. This isn’t the end, it’s just the beginning.

Maybe he’s being sentimental. They’d already had a similar conversation the night before—Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to keep moving forward no matter what, to keep chasing after volleyball and never look back. But there’s also something sentimental, a little upsetting about witnessing what he’d always wished they could accomplish together with their team, their friends, along with the fact that they just played their last volleyball match together the day before, the ache of that reality still fresh, still sinking in. In a few short months they’ll be on their way to totally different countries, the first real time in their entire lives they’ll be separated. Because they couldn’t have started small first, had to immediately jump to hours upon hours and miles upon miles of space between them for their first foray into being so far apart when they’ve never done that once yet in their lives.

He’ll miss Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s always known he’ll miss his very best friend more than anything, but now as the time they have left together quickly dwindles down to nothing, he wants him to know. Wants Iwaizumi to know that whatever happens next won’t change anything between them.

“Yeah, well, I’d hope you wouldn’t try to replace me that easily.” His foot collides with the side of Oikawa’s leg. “There’s never gonna be another you for me, either.”

“I hope not! There’s no one else who’d tolerate you picking on them every day. Or who could handle all of your deep dark secrets.”

“Oh yeah, I have so many of those.” He rolls his eyes, hand swinging dangerously close to Oikawa’s, close enough to brush, for them to grab onto each other and tangle their fingers together. “What about you? I’m like ninety-eight percent of your impulse control. Who’s gonna stop you from doing something stupid when you’re in San Juan?”

“I just won’t do anything stupid.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Silence overcomes them for a few moments, until—

“Oikawa, hey…” Iwaizumi stops walking, and Oikawa follows the moment he notices, just a small step ahead when he stops and turns to face Iwaizumi.

“What is it, Iwa-chan? Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head, pauses for a moment before he’s reaching forward, closes the small sliver of distance between them when he takes Oikawa’s hand. “I meant it when I said there’s not gonna be another you for me. Not here or in California or anywhere, okay? I promise nothing’s gonna change between us, no matter what stupid people at school think about us drifting apart. I’ve been with you my whole life, that’s not about to change. I’m always gonna care about you.”

“Iwa-chan…”

Iwaizumi pauses for a moment, then says, “I… you’re… you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend.”

Iwaizumi says one thing—that Oikawa is his best friend, that he could never replace that type of friendship—but Oikawa thinks… no, _knows_ that he means more than what his words imply on the surface. There’s something about it all—his words, his touch, everything between them over the years that has led them here.

_You love me too._

At first, the realization is jarring. Jarring, because this is what he’s wanted to know, waited to know for years. Jarring, because how did he not see it before? Was he not looking? Was he in denial because he thought there was no way Iwaizumi could ever feel that way about him?

The realization is a sharp punch to the gut, too. All of this time, Oikawa’s thought he’d never be lucky enough to have Iwaizumi feel the same. Yet all along, he’s had exactly that, only to realize it when the timing is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Just like he was afraid to confess in fear of getting his heart broken or getting all he’s wanted and initiating a long distance relationship, he’s afraid of what this knowledge will do to them.

“You’re going to make me cry,” Oikawa mumbles, lifting up his glasses to rub the heel of his palm against his eyes.

He thought they’d done this the night before, got everything out then. But apparently not. Apparently there’s always more they can say to each other.

“I’m just being honest with you.” Iwaizumi squeezes his hand before he breaks the contact between them. Maybe he’s realized how close it is. That it’s too intimate. That one of these days if they keep doing that, it could go somewhere they don’t mean it to, when they’re not ready for it.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan. It’s the same for me too, y’know. You’ll always be my best friend.”

Whatever comes next, no matter how much things change, he hopes that will always stay the same. That they’ll still remain in each other’s lives no matter the circumstance or distance between them.

They’re gonna make it. Wherever life takes them, they will. And maybe one day, when things settle for them, when they can no longer contain these feelings they’ve been keeping inside, maybe that will work out too.

Only time will tell.

* * *

“Is that mine?”

The sweatshirt Oikawa had pulled on before he left his house belongs to Iwaizumi. Left at his house once a while back and now claimed as Oikawa’s own. He does that enough with various items of clothing that usually Iwaizumi doesn’t even bother bringing it up anymore. It’s a lost cause trying to get his clothes back.

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.” It is, but Oikawa can play dumb as he sinks down onto the swing next to the one Iwaizumi’s seated on.

“You gotta stop stealing my stuff.” But Iwaizumi doesn’t seem upset about it, and instead switches the subject, asking why Oikawa texted him, asking to meet here at the park. “So what’s up?”

“Nothing really. Just couldn’t take my mom giving me sad eyes anymore.” He sighs. “It’s weird being in my room now.” Now that it’s so empty, things packed up, ready for him to leave it in just a few days, a reminder that he’ll soon have to say goodbye to every piece of himself here in the place he’s grown up. The place he’s spent his whole life.

“Is it okay if we just hang out here for a little bit?” There won’t be much time left to do that in the future, when they’re so far apart, and that’d been the reason he texted Iwaizumi, asking him to meet him here.

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you want.”

Sitting here now is such a difference from a few months ago. He had sat on this same swing, not sure what he was going to do, and now he has a plan, a path. He feels free. A little scared for what’s next, but excited too. He’s ready.

(But back then, he didn’t expect the departure to stretch for too long. Back then, he fully expected to make a triumphant return to Japan one day. Tear up the V-League, make it onto the national team. Argentina’s just the first step on the rung of a ladder to the top. But initially, he just didn’t expect that ladder to reach anywhere except Japan.)

 _One day, let’s make it there too,_ he and Iwaizumi had promised about making it to the biggest court they can one day, the Olympics. They’d crossed their hearts over it in the bright, innocent way only kids can. Their pinkies twisted around each other, swearing all of themselves to fulfilling the goal they’ve been envisioning for so many years.

And maybe it won’t be in the way they’d imagined it as kids. It’s already changed a little—Oikawa’s still playing volleyball, while Iwaizumi’s going to become an athletic trainer. They know now that maybe it takes a lot more to get there, to reach their dreams, than they’d ever expected. But they don’t quit. Don’t know how to quit. They only know how to give all of their hearts to something.

All of their hearts…

Sitting on the knowledge that Iwaizumi’s in love with him, that he returns Oikawa’s feelings, has been strange. On one hand, there’s no more lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about how much he aches for something he can never have, feelings that are never returned. Now he knows they are, so certain of this truth that it _hurts,_ hurts to think that everything he’s wanted with Iwaizumi for years is right in reach but at the same time, unobtainable.

Because while it’s a relief to finally piece together, on the other hand, the timing’s terrible. Horrible, really. Because he could have everything he’s wanted for years—they could have everything they clearly want to take—but everything is going to change in the next few days. Maybe permanently. Who’s to say what will happen when they leave Miyagi? Who’s to say where it will take them?

But Oikawa could confess right now, though. Swallow the fear of doing so, the fear of the unknown. Or he could choose not to say it, could just leave it buried under a rock here in this park. Don’t mention it. Let it be. Just leave well enough alone—they’re fine as best friends. They can still always remain best friends, no matter how they may feel more than that. Don’t complicate it three days before leaving home to go his own way.

If he doesn’t say anything, it feels akin to crushing something meant to bloom under a rock, leaving it to die. They’re already leaving enough behind in Miyagi as they both move forward on different paths, but he doesn’t want their relationship, what they could have that they’ve been too afraid to take, to be buried away here too. A possibility. A memory. A regret.

For years now, there’s been a touch that only rests in his mind, something never to be had in reality, it seems.

A kiss. A confession. The truth.

After so many years of being afraid to say it, now he’s afraid if he _doesn’t_ say it, he never will. He doesn’t want to look back on this moment ten, fifteen, twenty years from now and regret it. Agonize over how he could have done this better, how he could have said goodbye.

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa starts, a careful beginning to an earth-shattering truth, to something he’s kept contained for so long. “Hajime. I…”

But… what if Oikawa’s not as good as he thought. Maybe he read it wrong and decides to blow up their friendship right before he goes off to Argentina. What if the answer he gets is _no_ or _I don’t feel that way about you. You’re just my friend._ If that happens, he could go bury his head in the sand and build his pride and the leap of courage back up when he sets off on a plane to another country in a few days. It’s fine. It would be fine, so he should just take a chance. Just take a leap and scream what he’s wanted to for so many years now.

But Oikawa fizzles out right before he can confess to what he’s been feeling since he was fourteen, what they both clearly feel for each other. Too afraid of the idea of starting a relationship just a few days before he leaves for Argentina. Terrified that right now, Iwaizumi might not want to step into this with him anyway.

“You’re my best friend,” Oikawa says instead, his words an echo to Iwaizumi’s from months ago. “You’re the best friend I ever could have asked for.”

“You’re my best friend too,” Iwaizumi’s hands press to Oikawa’s shoulders, holding him steady as he speaks so their swings remain facing each other. “That’s never going to change, remember?”

He’s just said the same thing Iwaizumi had told him a few months ago. That they’re each other’s best friends. That they could never be able to replace each other. That nothing will change between them no matter the distance between them.

Then, the hidden meaning Oikawa had noticed behind the words led him to the realization that Iwaizumi feels the same way he does. Now, he’s probably conveying the same thing to Iwaizumi. But maybe there’s more, something they both can pick up on. Like the fizzled out confession that had faded into something else could be a request, a promise. Wait. Let’s wait. 

Next time Oikawa comes back here, maybe he’ll have all his dreams come true. Beside the person he wants to be with when they’ve achieved everything they’ve ever wanted to. Maybe they’ll have everything they’ve always wanted in their lives and with each other. Only time will tell.

“You wanna come over?”

Oikawa looks up, away from his lap and into Iwaizumi’s eyes. His kind and familiar and loving eyes, accompanied by the gentle, lopsided grin on his lips and the squeeze he gives to Oikawa’s shoulders—grounding and comforting.

“You said you don’t like being in your empty room,” he explains. “So come stay with me.”

Oikawa nods. “Yeah, I’d love to Iwa-chan.”

“Figured.” He slings an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders, pulls him close to his side. “C’mon. It’s freezing out. Wouldn’t want you to get sick right before you leave.”

He laughs. “You’re always looking out for me.”

“Someone’s got to.” He squeezes Oikawa’s shoulder when Oikawa leans his head against Iwaizumi’s. “And I’m not gonna stop, okay? Just because we’re gonna be far apart, it doesn’t change anything.”

“Back at you.” And he means it. Knows that’s something he’ll mean for as long as he lives. A promise that’s forever, infinite, unending.

This is their way of saying that whatever comes next, it isn’t goodbye. No matter where they go or what they do, an eighteen-year long closeness doesn’t disappear, a thread cut into separate pieces. They’re going to make it. He knows they will.

* * *

“Hey, you paying attention or what?” The volleyball Iwaizumi throws his way nearly cracks him in the face, but Oikawa sticks his hands up and catches it at least semi-gracefully before it can.

Iwaizumi’s grinning at him, like he knew Oikawa would catch the ball in his hands. He looks good in the afternoon sunlight, ocean blue waves and skies behind him. Wind in his hair, sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. Warm and beautiful. Golden. Someone who stands out in a sea of people at the beach here in California.

And really, even if Oikawa wasn’t biased on the subject, he’d still think so.

“Been a while, huh?” Iwaizumi asks when he comes to stand next to Oikawa.

Oikawa grins. “It hasn’t been that long. Only a few years. Hope you can still keep up, though.”

“Wait, Hajime, you’re gonna play against us with a pro?!” Iwaizumi’s friend, Ethan, shouts. “How is that fair?”

“Yeah. It’s good practice for you guys, right? Besides, I’m out of practice and he isn’t so good that you couldn’t handle us.”

“We’ve seen him play before over a livestream we watched with you,” Ryan says. “We know he’s good!”

“And that’s not what you’ve said before,” Alicia shouts from the sidelines, laughing as Iwaizumi’s face goes red. “I thought you told us he’s the best setter?”

Iwaizumi’s told his friends about him. His friends have seen streams of Oikawa’s games. And he shouldn’t be surprised because he’s talked about Iwaizumi too—really, how can he possibly tell stories about his life without mentioning the person who has been with him through all of it?—but thinking about Iwaizumi doing the same makes his heart want to leap from his chest.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa presses a hand to his heart, leaning against his shoulder. “You think I’m good?”

He sighs, shoving Oikawa’s shoulder. “You already knew that, dumbass. Quit fishing for compliments and go serve or I’m trading teammates.”

“Okay, okay. Make sure you keep up, Iwa-chan. I’m counting on you, y’know.”

“I know.” Iwaizumi squeezes Oikawa’s shoulder. “Me too.”

The look in Iwaizumi’s eyes says _I miss this. I miss you._ And really, Oikawa feels the same. He loves his teammates in San Juan, but none have the history with him like Iwaizumi does. None have been slamming his sets to the ground of the opposing team’s side of the court since they were seven years old.

If he closes his eyes, this feels like the many times they’d done this over the years. The quiet conversations. The hand on his shoulder. The boundless amount of trust a simple exchange before a game conveys, but how it never compares to the shift when they stand on a court together, side by side, ready to rule.

“Why are you guys so intense? This is just a game for fun!”

Iwaizumi ignores the teasing comment, grins at Oikawa before he lets go of his shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

“Of course.” He finally looks away, goes to serve to start the game.

When the ball is returned to their side of the court and Oikawa’s hands push it upwards in a set to Iwaizumi, he thinks it feels like he’s come home. Like he’s a kid again, setting to the person who has been by his side since he started playing volleyball. Even a few years later, it feels exactly the same, years of familiarity packed behind a new memory.

Everything around him melts away. It doesn’t matter where they are, that there are shouts in English all around the beach, that this is sand instead of a gym floor. It doesn’t matter if they’re in Japan or California or Argentina. All he knows is the touch of the ball against his hands and the person who has always been right there whenever Oikawa sets it to him, whenever Oikawa needs him for _anything_. His very best friend.

And when he catches Iwaizumi’s smile after they’ve scored a point, gleaming in the California sunlight, a rush of dizzied excitement overtakes him.

He’s home. But this home has no physical manifestation because it’s not a place, it’s a person. It’s the two of them together, wherever in the world they end up.

**.**

“Okay, okay. It’s getting late,” Ethan says, out of breath, hands resting on his knees as he hunches over. “We give up. You guys win again.”

“I can’t believe we lost so many times.”

“You guys are Division One athletes and you lost to—”

“We lost to a pro player and Hajime, who never told us he has some like… telepathic connection with his friend! The odds were stacked against us from the beginning and we didn’t even know it.”

“We got played.”

“You still wanna deny the telepathic connection I’ve always said we had, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, leaning against Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

He rolls his eyes. “We don’t have a telepathic connection. We played together for eleven years.”

“But you told us you were rusty, Hajime. Is this what betrayal feels like?”

“I bring out the best in him,” Oikawa teases, before Iwaizumi can respond to the accusation from his friends. “Even if he’s rusty.”

“Yeah fucking right.” Iwaizumi slaps his shoulder, the ball sent tumbling out of his hands as the two of them grapple with each other, laughter loud. 

“Well, when I played, we beat them, so you two can duke it out over who buys dinner.” Alicia grins at her boyfriend and friend. “I’m starving, so let’s go.”

“I feel like we spent all afternoon witnessing something out of a romance movie,” Ethan murmurs as they gather up their things to leave. “Who knew volleyball could do that?”

“Sometimes, volleyball just fucks you up,” Ryan murmurs appreciatively.

Alicia snorts, wrapping her arm around Ethan’s to drag him away, ahead of them. “You would know, Ryan. They’re like you and Sam every time you play together.” 

Oikawa doesn’t know Iwaizumi’s friends all that well beyond what he’s heard, but he has a feeling Alicia dragging the other boys with her is her way of giving them a moment. He already liked her well enough, but now he really likes her. She turns to look at the two of them, shouting, “C’mon, these two are buying dinner!”

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi says when their eyes meet again. His cheeks are red, warm, and something tells Oikawa it’s more than just playing volleyball on the beach for so long. “They’re just messing around.”

Oikawa shrugs. “No big deal. It’s not like it’s new. Makki and Matsun teased us almost every day in high school.”

“Yeah, they never quit, did they?” They _still_ haven’t quit because any time the four of them video call the same old ribbing begins. Same teasing comments sent along in their group chat. It’s just how it’s always been and probably how it’ll always be in their friend group.

“God, you’re really something,” Iwaizumi says, breathless as the two of them trail behind the rest of his friends on the way to get dinner. “It’s been a while. I kinda forgot what it’s like to see you play in person.”

Oikawa smiles at the compliment, even if it’s just about them playing a few casual rounds of beach volleyball, totally different from high school or anything he does in Argentina. A long time ago, he might have questioned someone saying that about him. Would wonder what the ulterior motive was or the bias from the source it was coming from. He no longer does that, doesn’t feel so anxious about his own abilities or threatened by others’ and it’s nice. It’s nice to feel comfortable like this. To believe it when someone compliments him instead of questioning why they would.

“You should come see me play for real in person, then. Especially since it’s been so long since you last visited me.” He leans against Iwaizumi’s side, singsongs, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Ugh, don’t make it sound like that.” Iwaizumi’s hand presses against Oikawa’s cheek, shoves him away playfully. “Yeah, though. I’d love to.” He pauses for a moment. “I miss you, y’know.”

“I miss you too.” Every day. They talk a lot, almost like they never separated in the first place, and still always make time for each other. A few years into this, into settling themselves in other countries, it’s easier than it had been at the beginning—when they were still getting used to time zone differences and their busy schedules. But no matter how much they make it work, nothing compares to being together like this—able to see each other in person and touch each other.

Short bursts of time together never seem long enough, but it’s better than the months of nothing except calling, texting, and FaceTiming. So Oikawa will take it. He’ll always take it.

“Let’s go eat,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ll buy you ice cream after, and maybe we can pick a week I can visit when we get back to my apartment.”

Oikawa nods, excited at the prospect. Even if their time for this particular visit is dwindling to its close, they’ll arrange next time. And he can dream of that until he has it in his grasp again.

“Sounds good.”

**.**

There’s something nice about this, about getting to experience the life Iwaizumi’s made in California, about the fact that any time Oikawa’s visited, Iwaizumi’s always had something to share with him.

Like when he takes Oikawa to the coffee shop he frequents in the mornings before he has class or in the afternoons to hang out and work on homework sometimes. Or the tiny ice cream shop he tells Oikawa he found accidentally with some of his friends one day that has quickly become is favorite place to go on the weekends because it’s the best he’s had in the few years here.

Then there’s the best spot on the pier to sit, ocean breeze, setting sun on the horizon. It’s gentle golden glow as Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa down next to him, their legs swinging as they sit side by side, shoulders nearly touching.

 _I’m so happy to be part of your life here,_ Oikawa finds himself thinking. _I’m so happy that you’ve found happiness here._

So Oikawa tells him so. “Iwa-chan?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really happy you like it here. And I’m proud of you too.”

He seems taken aback by the sudden praise, but smiles, bumping his shoulder against Oikawa’s. “Thanks. Same goes to you. Sounds like you’re really making a name for yourself over in San Juan.”

He laughs a little. “Yeah, I guess so.” Maybe he didn’t expect that in the beginning, but that’s what has happened. And now it feels good. So much better than the nerves and sometimes panicked moments he’d have at the beginning of this, when he was still adjusting to living on his own in Argentina, struggling to find his place there and on his new team.

Sometimes, he’s doubted it was the right choice. Has been afraid it’s all a waste of time if even now he can’t end up where he wants.

He’d voiced that before, early on when he first went to Argentina. When adjusting had been difficult, but a challenge he accepted wholeheartedly. Even then, some days it was hard to keep focus. To keep going. And sometimes, when he felt like that, he wondered if everything was a waste.

(“You think I don’t know what people say about me?” He’d said once, when he was FaceTiming Iwaizumi, voicing how he felt after a stressful day. Oikawa’s always known that people say he’s excessive and over the top. That leaving for Argentina straight out of high school had been impulsive, a rushed and reckless decision. “I’m not dumb, Iwa-chan. People have been talking about it since the rumor started floating around when we were still in high school. Even Kindaichi and Kunimi said stuff when they thought they were being subtle and quiet and no one could hear them.”

He sighs. “I just… I don’t want to be only the guy who ran away to Argentina because he couldn’t play in Japan. Or the over the top, dramatic person everyone thinks I am.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “You’re not any of those things, though. And if anyone thinks that, they’re the ones who are wrong. Not you.”

“Even you said I’ll chase volleyball until I’m old and I’ll probably never be happy.”

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way and you know it.” He sighs, and if they were together, he might rest his hand on top of Oikawa’s in the space it rests in between them. “I know you better than anyone, Tooru.”

“I know.” He looks down at his lap. “Sometimes, I’m afraid it’s still not enough, and that I’ve done all of this only for it to amount to nothing.”

“You’re barely twenty years old,” Iwaizumi reminds him. “And I know it’s hard sometimes. Believe me, I know it. But give it time. Keep going. I know you’re gonna do great things.”)

Now, Iwaizumi tells him the same. “Well, I’m not surprised at all that you’ve done so well there. I’ve always known you’re gonna do great things, wherever you go.”

“What if I never end up where I thought I would? Would you still think so then? Would you think all of this is worth it?” The distance. The months and months spent apart. The uncertainty of when they’ll see each other next. Especially when there’s a slight possibility of making all of that more permanent in the future if it ever comes down to it.

If Iwaizumi wonders what Oikawa means by those questions, he doesn’t say so. Just sighs. “You could be an Olympic gold medalist or go fuck off into the sunset and live your best life in a cabin alone in the woods. I wouldn’t give a fuck. _You’re_ what’s important. Not what you’re doing.”

The reassuring pressure of Iwaizumi’s hand resting on top of Oikawa’s in the space between them, the squeeze of his fingers, keep him grounded in this moment. Tied to Iwaizumi no matter where the two of them go or end up.

 _I love you,_ Oikawa wants to say. _I love you. I love you. I love_ _you._

“I’d never last isolated alone in the woods, Iwa-chan.” The burning behind his eyes, the clench of his heart, cause him to look away from Iwaizumi’s face. Because if he doesn’t, he might do something stupid. Might say something stupid. “And you wouldn’t either. You’d miss me.”

“That’s so not the point of this.” Iwaizumi sighs, like he’s exasperated, but he lets go of Oikawa’s hand to press his hands to Oikawa’s shoulders, grin on his lips as the conversation turns a little lighter. “But of course that’s what you got out of it.”

“You never denied missing me.”

“I miss you every day. You already know that. What’s there to deny?” But Iwaizumi squeezes his shoulders, serious again after the moment of teasing. “Look, Tooru, you… you gotta do what makes you happy, y’know? If you do something just because you feel like you have to or give up something you want because it’s easier to do that, you might feel alright for a little bit but in the long run…”

It’s like something’s shifted. Like Iwaizumi knows the random thoughts that have crossed Oikawa’s mind sometimes. Like he knows what some of Oikawa’s teammates have been saying for a while now, the comments they’ve made— _if you were on the national team, we’d be ten times better._ Like he understands that during the train wreck experience of trying to watch the Olympics with Hanamaki and Matsukawa across three different time zones over a video call a few months back and Oikawa had seen Kageyama and Ushijima and all those other people who had made it big playing volleyball in Japan, he hadn’t thought _that’s the team I want to be on_ , but instead thought _that’s the team I want to beat. That’s the team I could beat._

But Oikawa hasn’t voiced that aloud yet. It’s a pretty permanent choice, one that hasn’t been officially offered to him or a step he’s really thought of taking yet beyond thinking about it in passing.

Maybe the telepathic connection thing isn’t so far off after all, though. Because Iwaizumi’s speaking like he understands all of that. Like he knows.

“Yeah, well, _you_ make me happy, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi sighs. “I’m not talking about that. I don’t count.”

“Why not?” Oikawa feels brave enough to ask. “Why wouldn’t you count?”

“Because I’m…” Iwaizumi waves his hand around, dismissive, vague, in an attempt to avoid talking about this. “I’m just me.”

He says it like it’s a valid answer, something he truly believes. _If you really wanted to go to another school, I wouldn’t fault you for it. / I’m the one who couldn’t score off a perfect toss. / What kind of ace am I? / Keep going and don’t look back._

Iwaizumi has to know none of that is true or warranted. Oikawa loves him. Loves him with his whole damn heart, whether it’s platonic or romantic.

Oikawa sighs. “Why do you always have this idea that you’re not good enough for me?”

“Who says that I think that?” He laughs, a little too bitter for trying to play it off as nothing, just a joke, a comment that was kept silent rather than spoken. “And it’s funny you think that, because you’ve always thought you weren’t good enough for me.”

“Okay, fine. I guess that’s fair.”

“More than fair.” Iwaizumi bumps Oikawa’s shoulder with his own. “How many times when we were teenagers did I have to tell you it was dumb to think that way?”

“Iwa-chan, I…” _I love you_ , he could say. A confession years later than he should have first offered it out, gentle in his palms for Iwaizumi to accept. “You’re my best friend. You do make me happy. And to say anything else _is_ dumb, so please don’t think that way.”

 _Even if you do nothing else, please do that for me._ Even if they never move beyond this weird dance between friendship and more, he doesn’t want Iwaizumi to think he’s not good enough when really, he’s the best thing—

“Yeah, okay.” Iwaizumi presses his hand to Oikawa’s shoulder, a lingering thread of contact before he stands up and holds his hand out for Oikawa to take. “C’mon, it’s getting late. Let’s go back. I’ll even let you pick out a movie to watch.”

Oikawa _could_ say more. Could push it until Iwaizumi doesn’t sound dismissive about it, until he’s convinced Iwaizumi actually believes what he’s said. But Oikawa knows Iwaizumi as well as he knows himself, and he knows now isn’t the time to push it if Iwaizumi doesn’t want to talk about whatever he’s thinking. Later maybe, but not right now.

“You’re being way too nice,” he mumbles, taking Iwaizumi’s outstretched hand. “Who knew you’d be this good of a host?”

“Better than you.” He lets go of Oikawa’s hand after a moment, looks at him like he’s relieved he didn’t push the conversation beyond what they’ve already said, which means Oikawa read it right. Not that he’s surprised about that. “C’mon, let’s go.”

This is the same it always is. This game of push and pull. Pull each other in, then realize that’s too close and push away again. Rinse. Repeat. The same thing over and over.

Like the ocean. Ebb and flow. Calm waters they’re afraid to rock with a storm. They’ve balanced all of this so well. Why throw it off further? Oikawa may want to have everything with Iwaizumi, but he knows infinity isn’t that easy. It comes in brief spurts, but doesn’t always last. Even memories aren’t infinite—general concepts memorized, but small and sensory details eventually forgotten and more imagined recall rather than true remembrance.

But maybe one day he’ll get everything he’s wanted. Maybe one day they’ll have it, right in their grasps at the end of this all and when they’re ready for it. It sounds nice. To let themselves take that, let themselves live it. Iwaizumi will have all of him and Oikawa will have all of Iwaizumi. Intertwined and together, an infinite thread of gold that connects them, unable to be broken.

They don’t have it yet, but maybe one day they will. So for now he’ll hold out hoping for that day. Whenever it may come.

* * *

“How do you _live_ in here?” Oikawa asks, rubbing his hands over his arms in a poor attempt to warm himself up. “It’s freezing!”

“It’s not always this cold,” Iwaizumi insists, nudging Oikawa’s shoulder with his own.

“Take me back outside, then. It’s warm there at least.” He smiles, teasing, aiming to nudge Iwaizumi’s shoulder right back, but he misses since Iwaizumi’s jumped off the bed and went over to his dresser instead.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa manages through a laugh, pushing himself back up on his elbow as he watches Iwaizumi dig through a drawer. “What are you doing?”

“Here. Take it if you’re cold.” Iwaizumi tosses a sweatshirt at Oikawa’s head. “Now quit complaining or I’ll buy you a ticket to go back to San Juan early.”

“Yeah, like I believe that threat when you told me you missed me earlier. Not that I can blame you for that. I’d miss me too.”

“How does that even make sense?”

“Just does.” Oikawa smiles, clutching the sweatshirt Iwaizumi threw at him. It’s one of Iwaizumi’s UC Irvine sweatshirts, blue with gold lettering. Oikawa’s seen him wear it before when they’ve FaceTimed. Something about Iwaizumi letting him borrow something he wears quite a bit brings a warmth to his cheeks unrelated to putting the sweatshirt on to warm up.

“I want it back, though.” Iwaizumi sits down next to him again. “No stealing my stuff like you usually do and then you keep it.”

“I don’t steal anything! I can’t help it that you used to leave your stuff around all the time, and I’d end up with it by accident.”

“Okay, if that’s what you gotta tell yourself. Now be quiet or I’ll leave you to go do my homework instead.”

“Okay, wow. Some friend you are,” Oikawa mutters, shoving Iwaizumi’s shoulder before he leans back down against it, settling into a comfortable position. “You’d really put homework above me when I’m only here for a few more days.”

“Yep.” Iwaizumi turns the movie they’d been watching back on, allows Oikawa to continue to rest his head against his shoulder despite joking that he could be doing better things like homework.

A quiet night together, pressed close together and Oikawa wearing Iwaizumi’s sweatshirt, falling asleep against Iwaizumi’s shoulder seems so small, so simple and mundane. But he falls asleep next to his best friend, a familiar touch on his body that he’s spent too long without. After so long craving this exact thing, he has it instead of settling for texts and phone and video calls until they’re together again. But nothing will ever be better than this—the two of them, together in the same place.

And it’s always difficult to say goodbye… it will be difficult to face that in a few days, but they’ll make it through until the next time they see each other.

They always do.

* * *

A few days later, Oikawa drags his feet around Iwaizumi’s apartment, grabbing the last of his stuff so he can head to the airport for his flight back. The time in the weeks leading up to any reunion between them always seems to drag so slow, but any time they spend a week together, it flies, the quickest week ever.

It’s too early to even be functional, and the hours and hours of travel that await him aren't something he looks forward to. Usually, he tries to look more put together, but the fact that it’s still dark outside coupled with having to force himself to get up because he doesn’t want the time spent with Iwaizumi to be over kind of prevents him from caring about what he looks like. Messy hair he spends much less time fiddling with than he normally would, his glasses.

“You don’t have to take me to the airport, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, throwing the last of his stuff he’d left out into his backpack. “It’s so early. I can just…”

“We already talked about this.” Iwaizumi watches Oikawa from where he’s seated on his bed. “I’m taking you to the airport. End of story.”

“Okay, okay. I was just trying to be nice and say you don’t have to be up so early.” He turns back toward his stuff when the sweatshirt he’d left on top of his bag catches his attention. It’s the one Iwaizumi had given him the other night when Oikawa complained about being too cold. “Oh…” He picks it up and holds it out to Iwaizumi. “Here. You said you wanted it back...”

Iwaizumi crosses the short distance from his bed to Oikawa, but instead of taking the sweatshirt back, he pushes it back toward Oikawa’s chest. “Keep it. I want you to have it.”

“You sure, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa grips the sweatshirt tightly in his hands. “I don’t have to…”

“I mean, it’s not like you’ve never stolen my clothes before. I’m just giving you permission this time.”

He laughs, thinking of the few pieces of clothing he’s taken from Iwaizumi over the years, whether it’d been accidental or semi-purposeful. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely.” He pushes Oikawa’s shoulder, gentle and playful. “Looks good on you. Now c’mon. You’re gonna miss your flight if we don’t go soon.”

 _That_ , he isn’t expecting. For Iwaizumi to tell him he looks good. They’re usually a lot more subtle about things like that, rather than so forthcoming. He feels like a teenager again, fourteen and dwelling too much on whenever Iwaizumi touched him, trying not to get his hopes up by reading too much into things Iwaizumi said to him. Cheeks too warm, heart racing. Still, he recovers, pushes it down just like always. “I mean, being stuck here a few more days wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “No, it wouldn’t. But we know that can’t happen.”

Oikawa sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’ve got practice all next week.”

Maybe someday, they won’t have to do this. Someday, they won’t have to worry about catching ridiculously long flights and how little the time they spend together actually is and when they’ll see each other next.

Someday’s not today, though, so they have to get by just like they have been for the past couple of years.

They’ll say goodbye at the airport, but Oikawa can’t help himself from grabbing Iwaizumi’s wrist now, tugging him into a hug.

“Can’t wait for you to visit me in a few months,” Oikawa whispers against his shoulder. “I wanna show you around San Juan. Want you to officially meet my teammates and see what I’ve done with my apartment. And you can watch some of my games in person.”

 _I wanna show you my whole life there_ , he doesn’t say, but that’s what he means. _I wanna share that part of me with you._

The first time Iwaizumi had visited Oikawa had been so early on that he really was still just adjusting to being in a new country. It’d been long before he’d felt as comfortable as he does now, long before he began thinking of San Juan as his home and his teammates as his friends, his second family.

It’d all been so different back then. When Iwaizumi visited, it was more like having a piece of home somewhere that still felt so unfamiliar, so huge and terrifying. Back then, Oikawa really needed that. To see someone familiar and who he’s always felt so comfortable and safe with. They’d mostly just kept to themselves when Iwaizumi visited—hung out in the general area near Oikawa’s apartment, went to one of his games—and honestly, he thinks Iwaizumi knew that’s exactly the type of support Oikawa needed, probably because he was going through a similar type of experience in California.

But that’s all changed in the few years since then. Oikawa’s settled now, comfortable. _Happy._

They’ve been sharing everything since they were kids. And the first person Oikawa wants to share anything with has always been Iwaizumi. Of course he wants to share what he’s built for himself in San Juan. Of course he wants Iwaizumi to be part of that. He’s shared all of it through telling him about it, but it’s different to do it in person, to have him there. It feels real, then. Like he can have all the things he loves in one place—Iwaizumi, San Juan, and volleyball—and doesn’t have to sacrifice anything to have one in favor of the other.

“Yeah, me too.” Iwaizumi brushes a stray piece of Oikawa’s hair behind his ear when they pull apart, hand lingering near his face, just shy of resting on his cheek. “I wanna do all that too. I’d love to.”

They stand facing each other for a moment, goofy smiles on their lips. Until Iwaizumi finally pulls his hand away. “We should go.”

Oikawa nods, agreeing, no matter how much he just wants to continue to stay with Iwaizumi. He looks at the sweatshirt he’d set down before he’d pulled Iwaizumi into a hug and decides to pull it on. If he has to spend hours upon hours on a plane, he might as well be comfortable and warm. “Don’t miss me too much, Iwa-chan,” he says, grabbing his bags so they can go.

Iwaizumi scoffs. “Yeah, I think I can survive the day until you text or call me to say you got back.” He helps Oikawa with his bags as they leave his apartment. “Don’t miss me too much either.”

That’s easier said than done, but they’ll manage.

* * *

“Oh, he gave you his clothes? So I’m guessing you had a fun week, then.”

At the airport, Oikawa’s met with his teammate, Javier, leaning against a wall waiting for him, grinning while gesturing at the sweatshirt he’s wearing. “I asked you to pick me up from the airport, Javi. Not judge my life.”

Javier’s not only Oikawa’s teammate, but was the first friend he’d made here. And well, he’s become one of Oikawa’s best friends in the few years since they first met. They’re close in age—Javier’s just a year older than him—and Oikawa joined the team a few months after Javier did. They live in the same apartment complex. Oikawa not only knows the perfect arc and speed to send the ball to him cross the court or what his vertical is when he’s at his best, but also knows a whole bunch more outside of the court. That Javier can’t hold alcohol for the life of him and that his hometown is three hours east of San Juan and that he’s dating his high school sweetheart, Cristian, who’s studying to be a physical therapist at a school in Buenos Aires.

“Hey, hey. I’m just messing with you.” Javier throws an arm across his shoulders. “So, was it a fun vacation? Do you have a change in relationship status to report?”

“Nope. Still the same.”

“Bring him here. I can play matchmaker, if you want. I’m dying to meet your Iwa-chan anyway after how much you talk about him. I’ve only ever met him the one time you introduced us when you were FaceTiming with him after one of our games.”

“He is coming here in a few months, but you’re not gonna get involved!”

“Could be the push you need, though. I think I get the whole pining for your best friend thing better than you think. Been there, done that.”

Oh yeah, Oikawa’s heard all of that multiple times. He and Javier are quite a combination—Oikawa pining for Iwaizumi off in another country, while Javier’s been in a long-distance relationship with his own boyfriend since they ended up in separate places after they finished high school. “I don’t need to hear you brag about how you and Cristian got together.” He laughs. “ _Again_.”

“And maybe I don’t want to hear you tell me all about your Iwa-chan all the time, but I still listen because I’m a good friend.” He pauses. “Look, I’m just saying that I know it’s scary. You’ve got it worse than I do too because we’re in the same country, at least. Sometimes you gotta take the leap, though.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather keep him in my life than risk losing him altogether.”

“Yeah, I get that, but Tooru, if he loves you as much as you think he does, then that’s nothing to worry about.”

Yeah, it probably isn’t something to worry about, but there’s still that fear that if they go for this and it doesn’t work out, it could wreck their friendship. What if being so far apart is too much and starting a relationship with so much distance between them is only set up to fail? Everyone says it—long-distance relationships rarely work out—and people had even been skeptical about their friendship remaining as strong as it’s always been, but…

When Oikawa thinks of dating someone, he can only think of Iwaizumi. If someone’s asked him out, inquired if he’s seeing someone, the answer’s always been the same— _sorry, there’s someone else._ Someone who has been holding Oikawa’s heart in his hands their entire lives.

“Anyway, you know I love talking about your romantic drama that you’re being stupid about, but I have to tell you the rumor that’s been going around.”

 _That_ piques his interest. “What rumor?”

“Really? You’re gonna pretend you don’t know?” Javier shoots him an incredulous look, like he can see right through Oikawa’s lie before he continues, “Coach is in line to take over the national team. And you’re like… our star prospect. Everyone knows you’d get called up in a second.”

“You’re forgetting something, Javi. I’m not a citizen here. I can’t play on the national team.”

“C’mon, Tooru. I know it’s crossed your mind. Coach has hinted at it when he talks to you. I’m on the damn team and everyone thinks our chances would be better with you there. They’d probably throw citizenship at you in a second if you wanted it.”

“Yeah, well it’s only a rumor.” That’s what Oikawa’s been telling himself whenever this has come up. While the idea thrills him, it’s simultaneously terrifying to think about. What could be one of the happiest moments of his life would be juxtaposed with choosing a life far away from his family and friends if he has to renounce his Japanese citizenship in order to gain that here.

“I’m gonna remember that when it’s all official because one of these days they’re going to outright ask you. It’s only a matter of time.”

Oikawa ignores him in favor of his phone and the text he’d just received. It’s a response from Iwaizumi after Oikawa had texted him a few minutes ago telling him his flight landed and he was back in San Juan.

_Glad you’re back. I’m still gonna be up for a while if you want to call me when you get to your apartment. Get some sleep soon, though. I’m sure you’re tired._

He smiles at his phone for a moment, then shoves it into his pocket before Javier can make a comment about that. “We’ll see what happens.”

“Yeah, guess we will.” Javier grins, and squeezes Oikawa’s shoulder again before he pulls his arm away so they can walk to the car. “So, you have to tell me how you got him to give you his sweatshirt. Spare no details.”

Oikawa laughs, shoving his friend’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

* * *

As it turns out, the rumor and gossip prove to be true a few months later. Official, with the announcement that coach Blanco has accepted the position as the new head coach of Argentina’s national team. And that drags an important decision to the forefront of Oikawa’s life when he asks Oikawa to stay after practice one day to talk, and Javier shoots him a look that screams _told you so_ as he walks by on his way out of the gym, slaps Oikawa’s shoulder.

His first inclination is to say yes when he’s told that—just like Javier said months ago—Argentina wants to offer him citizenship so he can play for them internationally, just like people have been whispering about for months. He _wants_ to say yes because it’s everything he’s ever wanted. Because it’s all he’s been working toward, and maybe his eighteen year old self hadn’t expected Argentina to be extending the offer to play on their national team instead of the offer from Japan he’s been dreaming of since childhood. But now here they are, ready and willing to hand him a jersey, blue and boundless like the sky, and gold like the sun, a horizon he’s always wanted to touch. It’s not the red and white of Japan’s national team or their flag or the home he grew up in. Somehow it’s better. It’s _his._ His dream and his life and his path that he’s carved out for himself through sheer hard work and determination.

And it’s something he’s proud of. Being told he can continue to play volleyball internationally on the world stage, that he can represent this place he’s grown to love in the three and a half years he’s spent here.

This is much more permanent than making a choice to go play in another country for what he thinks will only be a few years before going back to where he came from. And even then, people had called that choice reckless, impulsive, stupid. Destructive fire, burning down everything behind him as he plunged forward, until he runs out of steam and quells into nothing.

They’ll probably say the same if he really does take this opportunity presented to him. He’s reckless and impulsive and stupid to give up his Japanese citizenship in favor of gaining Argentinian citizenship. He’s too young to make such a permanent choice. _What would your family think? What would your friends say? You could lose everything you’ve ever known with just one reckless choice._

He knows what people say about him. What they think. That he’s brazen and bold and childishly petty. Stubborn to the point where he’d rather plow through a mistake than admit he was wrong. Dig his grave and lie in it rather than turn back. Obsessive. Destructive.

Those are all wrong. It’s not pettiness or stubbornness. It’s determination. It’s loyalty. It’s passion. Oikawa’s loyal to a fault, loves with all his heart, gives all of himself to what he does.

He’d picked Aobajousai for himself and never looked back once because he’d loved every moment spent there. Loved his team, his friends, representing a place he’d carved his own path in. He’s never regretted a single moment of it, even if it had ended in unfulfilled dreams. Even if a place like Shiratorizawa would have given him national exposure.

But had he gone to Shiratorizawa or some other big name school just for a better guarantee at getting national exposure, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in Argentina—in San Juan—with this opportunity right in his reach.

It’s this decision that gave him the raw burst of confidence to claim his volleyball career was far from over in what he once believed would be the worst moment of his life—the moment he ran out of chances to make it to Nationals, the first time he’d no longer be able to slam a reset button and try again instead of being left to face the unknown of the future and whatever came next. Back then, it may have seemed like a prideful, angered declaration with nothing to back it up. And yeah, then, he _didn’t_ have anything to back it up, no concrete evidence or accomplishments. But he’d had an instinct, a goal and a place in his mind, a calling in his heart that felt _right._

And it had been. Now he’s got the evidence to back up the declaration—twenty-two years old and the starting setter on a successful, talented professional team. Twenty-two years old with a major decision before him: stay in Argentina and keep climbing here, ‘til he finally touches the sky, or don’t take the chance, go back to Japan and everything he’s ever known and loved before this to try to make a name for himself there.

There are people who switch teams every few years, who travel from country to country, place to place.

And Oikawa used to think maybe that’d be his life too. He’d spend just a few years here before moving back, hopefully to hold the red jersey of Japan’s national team in his hands, play on a pro team in the country he grew up in after making a name for himself. But that was before he grew to love it here: his team, his friends, his _home_.

 _Think about it._ Coach Blanco said to think about it. So that’s what he’ll do. Even though the possibility of making this decision at some point has lingered in his mind for a while now.

It’s the same way he felt in his heart when he thought about going to Argentina after high school. It’d been terrifying, but the decision ultimately felt right.

He pulls his phone out of his bag when he finally leaves the gym. He’s got a couple of texts. From Takeru. From Minako. From Iwaizumi.

If he never goes back and instead chooses to stay here, is that what he’s giving up? A life close by his family? A life where he and his best friend won’t have to spend hours and miles upon miles apart? Where they can finally be together and love each other in the way they’ve been dancing around for years because of time and distance and the parallel paths they’re running on?

For a moment, he considers calling Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s always the first person Oikawa wants to share every bit of his life and what he loves with. He’s the person Oikawa’s always wanted to stand beside at the end of it all, to love, to be with him when all of their dreams came true.

Iwaizumi’s the one who has always, _always_ pushed Oikawa to fly, but he’s also been right there to catch him if he stumbles, if he falls.

At least, that’s what he always has thought. But… if he makes such a permanent, life changing choice, what will that mean for them? When they’re already teetering on such a precarious balance, unstable ground they can tilt either way—

If they’re authoring the story together, it feels like Oikawa’s the one who has taken it off-kilter, a pen’s messy scribble trying to reach a different end point.

But he and Iwaizumi have never been meant to be parallel lines, side by side but never meant to intersect. Even as they make their own paths, there’s a point where they will eventually intersect. They’ve been dreaming since they were just children of their dreams leading them somewhere together, even if they aren’t side by side in the way initially had imagined. That has to mean something.

For now, he just answers his messages like he normally would. Acts as if nothing’s changed, as if there isn’t a huge decision he’ll eventually have to make. But deep down, Oikawa knows what he wants to do, what he’s _going_ to choose. And it’s exciting. Terrifying, when he thinks about what it means and what it could mean down the line and how to tell the people he loves this is what he wants to do, but exciting to hear Argentina calling for him, asking him to stay. _Stay, stay, stay._

* * *

A few weeks later, Iwaizumi visits Oikawa. It’s everything he’d hoped it’d be. Just like always, they fit perfectly into the lives they’ve been building on their own, like there’s always a space for them. Like no matter where they go or what they do or how far apart they are, they’ll always have a piece of their hearts carved for each other.

Oikawa’s also promised himself he’s going to tell Iwaizumi about the offer he received, the choice he wants to make during this time together. A conversation like that is easier to have in person, something he feels more confident doing in person, so he’s waited until the timing’s right.

One night, they go out together. Stay out late, get a little buzzed verging on being tipsy, but still totally functional. Iwaizumi’s always held alcohol better than Oikawa, so it hasn’t really impacted him at all

It’s late when they get back to his apartment.

“Here. Lemme help you,” Iwaizumi says after Oikawa nearly falls over taking his shoes off. Okay, maybe he’s just a little more buzzed than he’d like to admit.

There’s something about being together like this after so long apart that makes their touches so much braver, a little more selfish, a little hungrier. In ways they may have held back before, they don’t now. They didn’t in California and they don’t here, touch bleeding into one. Their hands brush. They sleep together in Oikawa’s bed. Iwaizumi’s hand brushes his cheek. Oikawa leans against his side.

There have been other times they’ve done this—stumbled through the motions of coming home together after having a little too much to drink. It’s been worse than this before, though. One time, in high school, when Oikawa had embarrassed himself letting himself be a little too unguarded and told his friends a bunch of ridiculous things he and Iwaizumi had done as children. Hanamaki laughed so hard that he rolled off of the couch and hit the little table sitting in front of it, toppling it over and spilling drinks everywhere. After that, Matsukawa banned them from drinking in his house ever again.

They’d gone home together, late, and got caught trying to sneak inside Oikawa’s house by his father. Their voices and laughter and the clambering to get inside the house together gave them away.

Things are different now, but some things stay the same. Being together, always close, verging on too close. Yet somehow it never seems to be enough. Holding their breath and waiting for something to happen that they’ve always held back from taking.

Iwaizumi pulls the jacket from his shoulders and tosses it aside, his hands linger, slide over Oikawa’s chest, over the frantic beat of his heart at being touched like this by the only person he wants to touch him this way.

And Oikawa finds himself feeling a little braver too, in the last stretch of Iwaizumi’s time here visiting him. Finds himself reaching up to brush his fingers over Iwaizumi’s cheek under the pretense of swiping away some of the rain water that’s slipped onto it from the drip of his wet hair, since it’d started to rain a little bit on their way back. Finds his hand lingering there. Neither of them pull away.

For a moment, he thinks they may just finally say _fuck it_ and kiss. They’re close enough to do it, just a second away from closing the distance between them. It’s dark in his apartment, but in the little bit of light that seeps in through the window, he can see Iwaizumi’s face, can see the gentle expression in his eyes. The tenderness, the love that’s always directed at Oikawa. The same that Iwaizumi used to try to conceal when Oikawa looked his way, to make sure Oikawa didn’t notice it. But Oikawa’s been looking at Iwaizumi in the same way for too many years—that sappy, totally fond look—that it’s kind of impossible to hide it from each other.

He can’t help but imagine it—leaning in, his hand cupping Iwaizumi’s cheek as Oikawa finally, _finally_ kisses him. And Iwaizumi would kiss him back, his fingers digging into Oikawa’s hips, under his shirt. Back pressed against the door, their lips locked, no longer needing to gasp for breath because they have it. They have _this_. Electric and passion and bright as the sun. Head above water after a long storm. Hitting land after a rough journey home.

“What’re you thinking about?” Iwaizumi asks, quiet, even though it’s just the two of them. “You’ve got a funny look on your face.” 

But Oikawa can’t do that. As much as he wants it, he can’t. Not when he hasn’t even told Iwaizumi about the decision he’s making for himself. Not when it’s yet another thing to fuck with the timing every time they seem to get brave enough to let their feelings free. Something always comes up.

And this time… this time, it could be permanent. He may never voice those feelings he has for Iwaizumi because who knows what making this decision means for them. His future may be bright, ready to bloom at any moment, but their future together and where it will take them may be uncertain, murky and not guaranteed.

“Nothing,” Oikawa finally says, but he smiles. “I just… I missed this. That’s all.”

Just because he says he won’t kiss Iwaizumi doesn’t mean he can hold his touch back, though. Really, that’s always been the most obvious thing between them. Something that has given their feelings away when they won’t voice the truth to each other.

“Yeah? Me too.” Iwaizumi shifts, brushes his own hand over Oikawa’s face, probably under the same guise of brushing the lingering rain water away too. “Go… go get ready for bed.” Iwaizumi pushes his shoulder, lips quirking into a smile.

Oikawa breathes again.

Things don’t change between them because they always stop just shy of letting it. Either out of fear or timing or whatever it may be that holds them back. There’s always some type of excuse.

Finally, a little later, he flops into his bed, sliding under the covers. “Hey, Iwa-chan, come here.” Oikawa holds out his hand.

So Iwaizumi does, like a thread reeled back to him. He takes Oikawa’s hand, just like he always has. “You should get some sleep. You’re gonna have a headache in the morning otherwise.”

“I really didn’t even drink that much.” Oikawa tugs him closer. If he shifts his grip a little, their palms will press together, and more often than not their fingers will intertwine. “Will you stay with me? Please?”

Iwaizumi nods without any hesitation behind it. “Okay.”

Oikawa feels safe here, with Iwaizumi in his bed, arms wrapped around him and Oikawa’s head pressed to his chest. Enveloped by warmth and comfort in the knowledge that there’s someone right next to him who loves him and has supported him through every decision he’s made thus far.

He _always_ feels safe, loved, beautiful when Iwaizumi touches him. And he’s knows that’s what makes it easier to talk about this face to face than it had to bring it up over the phone or on FaceTime.

He takes a breath, then whispers, “Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“What would you think if I never came back?” he asks, voice muffled against Iwaizumi’s chest. “Would you hate me if I…?” 

“Huh? Came back where?”

“Japan,” Oikawa mumbles after a moment. “I… They offered me citizenship here. They want me on the national team.”

Iwaizumi shifts, pulls back enough so the two of them are looking at each other, eyes only on each other. “You seriously think I could ever hate you for making that decision for yourself?” He smiles at Oikawa, bright and warm and happy. Like it’d been himself who had been offered this. “I think everything you’ve done here is amazing. And I’m so proud of you. There aren’t many people who could go to another country straight out of high school and do so well that they want to pull you up to their national team.”

“I know.” He’s proud of that, all of it, everything he’s done here and the name and place he’s made for himself. But… “I wish it were that simple, though.” That he could choose this dream without making such a permanent choice of renouncing his Japanese citizenship to have it. “I just… I want this so bad, but what if I’m giving other stuff up in the process?”

What he could be giving up if he makes such a permanent choice is what’s scared him the most. There’s the fear that even if he doesn’t regret it now, what if in the long run he does? What if it’s the wrong choice?

Every time he thinks about this, about what he wants to do, he can’t help but think of his parents, his mother constantly telling him to take care of himself and to come visit more because she misses him. He thinks of his sister, who he’s always been close with, especially as he got older and has helped out over the years as she tried to raise Takeru on her own after getting married and divorced young. She recently got engaged to the guy she started dating a few years back who Oikawa’s never even really met since he’s so far away and hasn’t visited in a while. He thinks of his nephew, who’s almost a teenager now, and Oikawa’s missed every single major milestone of his life in the past four years because he’s been across the globe. He thinks of his friends, who he only texts or talks with on the phone or video calls with every month.

And he thinks of Iwaizumi, who lives thousands of miles from him and in a time zone four hours behind him. But eventually, if they continue like this, when Iwaizumi goes back to Japan in a few years he’ll be twelve hours ahead of Oikawa. Twenty-three hours away by plane. An entire ocean apart.

He can’t help but think of that park in Miyagi right near their childhood homes where he’d buried the confession he was going to make to Iwaizumi, unspoken words between them that they’ve never acknowledged, like they’re waiting for the best time. Back then, he’d thought, one day when they were both there again, together after so long apart, they could make good on any unspoken promises between them. They could have everything they’ve always wanted, but have been too afraid to take.

Back then, he hadn’t thought super far ahead. He thought maybe he’d come back and play in Japan after a few years spent here in Argentina. He’d eventually get chosen for Japan’s national team after fighting for a spot there—red jersey, a number one on his back. He and Iwaizumi would be back on the same team by then, not as the team’s setter and ace like they’d imagined as children, but as setter and athletic trainer.

It’d been a dream so firmly imagined in his mind that he hasn’t even pinpointed when it’d subtly begun to change over the years. Blue jersey. A different language. A different flag. A home here. Friends here. Loving and wanting to share his life here in San Juan with his family, his friends, with Iwaizumi. No matter the amount of time and distance that separates them.

“I told you before, remember? You gotta do what makes you happy and what’s right for you. It’s not about what anyone will think of you or what their expectations are.” Iwaizumi rests a hand on his cheek. “I’ve been with you for as long as I can remember. I’ve grown up with you. To see you now is so different than how you were when we were teenagers. I can see it every time we talk. I know how happy you are. And I’d never fault you for that, Tooru. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. So what makes you think I’d stop supporting you just because you want to make a decision that’s right for you?”

Oikawa shrugs. “I don’t know… I just… I’m sure it’s not easy doing this with me and being my friend for so long even though we’re going to have to keep being so far apart. I know it’s not…”

“Please don’t say that. You’re just as important to me as I am to you.”

“I know that, but…” _Sometimes it feels like you give me so much, but I can’t give you the same. I can’t ever give you a normal friendship or relationship if we stay like this and keep moving forward like this._

“Can I tell you something?”

Oikawa nods, surprised by the suddenness of Iwaizumi’s question. “What is it?”

“My first night in Los Angeles, I was sitting in my empty room so overwhelmed about being alone in another country and leaving what had always been home behind. I was freaking out a little, even though that had been what I wanted. But then my phone rang and the stupid picture of yourself you’d set as your contact picture popped up saying you wanted to FaceTime, even though it was like two in the morning for you. And honestly, the minute I saw you calling and your face on my screen, I felt better. Because I knew you were going through the same thing, and we’d get through it all together and come out of it stronger.” He cups Oikawa’s cheek. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’ve always been there for me too. Even when you haven’t known it, you’ve helped me through stuff. And that means so much to me.”

“Iwa-chan…” He remembers that. They’d been texting most of that day when they could. And despite Iwaizumi saying everything was fine, Oikawa had a feeling it wasn’t. He’d gone through the same types of feelings when he first arrived in Argentina. It was terrifying and lonely and despite wanting that for himself, he’d panicked a little. Of course he’d want to support Iwaizumi if he’d been going through something similar.

“I’m not gonna drop you or quit caring about you just because you’ve found your dream here. It’s not like there’s some string attached to our friendship where I’m only friends with you with some condition that you come back to Japan someday. That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah… yeah, it kind of would be.” He wraps his arms around Iwaizumi, pulling himself closer to him to hug him. “Thanks, Iwa-chan,” he whispers, forehead resting against Iwaizumi’s chest, right over his heart. Iwaizumi’s hand settles on Oikawa’s lower back, his fingers accidentally brushing against his bare skin where his shirt had ridden up.

“Don’t thank me. I told you before, I’m always going to be here for you.” That statement’s been true their entire lives so far. Iwaizumi laughs. “Y’know, if you were looking for me to give you reasons for why you shouldn’t do this, I was a bad person to ask.”

Oikawa breathes out a laugh too, overwhelmed by the boundless support Iwaizumi’s always given him. “Obviously. You’ve always been my biggest supporter. Not sure what anyone else might think, but at least I’ve got you.”

“If anyone gives you shit about this, I’ll clock ‘em.”

The promise may sound like a joke, but Oikawa knows Iwaizumi means it. It reminds him of on the playground when they were eight and the two of them destroyed some kid’s bike tires after they had picked on Oikawa, shoved him on the playground. With all their gap-toothed wonder and mischief and hands that hadn’t even begun to touch the world yet, Oikawa had looked at Iwaizumi like he _was_ the center of the whole world and really, he still looks at Iwaizumi that way, still feels that gutted, laid bare feeling only his best friend can make him feel. Even when they’ve grown much older and have experienced much more of life and the world than their tiny little corner of it in their childhood homes and small town, he thinks he’ll _always_ look at Iwaizumi like he’s the center of his world.

“Thanks for being here with me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa finally whispers a little later, after they’ve talked a little more, lulls filling the conversation now as sleep begins to overtake them. His eyes feeling heavy with sleep, fluttering shut. “Thanks for always sticking with me.”

The pads of Iwaizumi’s fingers brush against Oikawa’s forehead as they push his bangs out of the way. “Yeah. Of course. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Me too,” Oikawa mumbles before he drifts off to sleep. “I’m always gonna be here for you too. Don’t ever forget it.”

Iwaizumi’s quiet, amused laughter and the warm, familiar fingers against his skin are the last bit of what he remembers before he falls asleep. “Yeah, Tooru. There’s no way I could ever forget it.”

* * *

“Happy birthday, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa says when he runs up to him at the airport. “Your present has arrived!”

“What? You? That’s not a very good present,” Iwaizumi says, but what he means is clear in the way his fingers curl around Oikawa’s wrist and the hug he pulls him into.

“Really? That’s what you’re going to say to me when I came all this way for your birthday and your graduation?”

He drops his head to rest against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, finally feels like he can breathe easy after so many hours of travel. It’s only been a few months since they’d seen each other last, shorter than most times between visits, but Iwaizumi’s arms wrapped around him never fails to make him feel safe, like he’s come home after a long time away. Oikawa loves that—the familiar squeeze of his waist, the smile he’s known for nearly twenty-three years, the touch he’s spent his entire life growing up with.

“Thanks for coming. I know it’s not always easy to find time where our schedules line up.”

“Iwa-chan, you know I wouldn’t miss your graduation for anything.” Oikawa smiles at him when they pull back from the embrace. “It’s important to you, so it’s important to me too.”

Iwaizumi leans over to help him with his bag, hand reaching for Oikawa’s wrist to move them along so they can get out of the crowded airport and back to his apartment. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking letting you come here for my last few days of finals, though. Sorry. We haven’t seen each other for a couple of months and I’m sure you’d rather not spend it with me studying.” 

“Iwa-chan, really, it’s okay. I’m happy just to spend time with you. It’s so much better than being on a video call with you when we try to talk while you’re doing homework.”

“That’s true. Can’t be worse than that.”

“So just do what you need to do. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

“Is it terrible to say that’s like the only thing getting me through right now?”

Oikawa laughs, looking away from Iwaizumi’s face in favor of the crowd of people in front of him. “No. I knew you’d be dying to see me.”

“Yeah, you could put it that way. You’re kind of distracting.” Iwaizumi shifts, their hands brushing against each other. “So, what do you want to do first? Go back to my place and sleep? Or do you want to eat something? Up to you.”

“It’s your birthday, so you should decide. Not me.” Oikawa grins. “I’m up for anything.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll figure it out, then.”

They always do. And the time they spend together may always go by too quickly, but Oikawa’s always happy to experience it when he has it. Craves these moments together because he never knows when he’ll get them next.

“Yep! Let’s go.”

* * *

In a strange reversal of roles, Oikawa finds himself telling Iwaizumi to go to bed on the night before his last final.

“Iwa-chan, you should sleep,” Oikawa mumbles, climbing out of bed to walk over to Iwaizumi’s desk. “You’re gonna do fine. I know it.”

“Yeah, but…” He starts to protest.

Usually, Iwaizumi’s always tried to coax Oikawa to stop what he’s doing when he’s overworking himself, to take a break. So many times when they were teenagers, they’ve been through that exchange.

This time, Oikawa’s hand settles on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “You have one more test and then you’re free! We’re gonna go get your parents from the airport, and then we’ve got some free days ‘til I have to go back. So don’t stress too much, okay? I know you’re gonna do great, but not sleeping isn’t going to help you.”

With a sigh, Iwaizumi stands up after a moment, probably because he knows Oikawa is right. “What? You learn something about doing this after years of me doing the same to you?”

Well, it is easier to do this for someone else than trying to catch yourself making the same mistakes. Easier to notice, easier to do something about. And watching someone you care about stress and worry about something makes you want to step in, to try and help even a little bit. 

“Maybe,” Oikawa whispers. “ _But_ I’m also nice enough that I wouldn’t let you fall asleep at your desk and lay on some papers so ink gets on your face.”

“Oh, c’mon. We were like fifteen when that happened. It was one time.”

“One time too many! I never forget things like that.”

While they get ready for bed, Oikawa can’t help but wonder if they’ll have the same conversation they usually do, along the lines of _we shouldn’t, we’re too old for that_ in regards to sharing the bed. Any reason not to usually sits a half-hearted comment, totally valid, if they don’t want to contribute to the circles they’ve always been running in, if they finally want to break that cycle. 

But they don’t. It’s probably something to do with the distance between them on a daily basis. Something that makes them want to be so close together whenever they can. Take the close contact while they have it, before it’s gone again for months at a time.

Iwaizumi slides into bed with him after he spends a few minutes in the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. He’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and is so close, Oikawa feels like he can’t breathe. Like his heart wants to open up and devour his whole being. Like he might melt in the presence of the sun.

This time, Oikawa doesn’t even need to ask Iwaizumi to stay. This time he just does, right here, so close. But not close in the way Oikawa really wants him. In that sense, he still seems so far out of reach. Even if the two of them clearly want to close that distance between them.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi murmurs before they fall asleep. “Thanks. For always being here. For believing in me.”

“Of course I believe in you,” Oikawa whispers. “You’re graduating college in two days. And you’re starting graduate school in a few months. I’m so proud of you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. And you’re so amazing. I gotta try to do something to keep up.”

Oikawa frowns. In the dark, he can’t see Iwaizumi’s expression, only able to make a guess at what Iwaizumi means, what he’s thinking. “Iwa-chan...?”

And he doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like what he’s pretty certain Iwaizumi might be getting at. That he thinks Oikawa is so far ahead of him, so out of reach when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Hajime.” Oikawa leans closer, hands resting on Iwaizumi’s side. “You’re amazing. You always have been. Just like you told me, not everyone can go to another country straight out of high school and do as well as you have. You’re so, so smart and work so hard and are one of the best in your class. _And_ you’re good at what you do. You’re gonna be so good. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Tooru.” He rests his hand over Oikawa’s, gives it a quick squeeze before he lets go. “It’s late, though. Quit sweet talking me and get some sleep,” Iwaizumi says after a moment.

“I’m not sweet talking! ‘m only being honest.” When he’s tired he gets like that: more honest, lack of a thought to mouth filter. But he means every word of what he tells Iwaizumi, and would tell him the same over and over again.

“I know.” Iwaizumi rolls over, somehow closer, but also so far away in the same moment. He yawns. “You were right about needing sleep. I’m so tired I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

Oikawa nods. “I’m always right, aren’t I? Goodnight, Iwa-chan, and good luck on your exam tomorrow. I know you’ll crush it.”

“‘Night, Tooru.”

A few minutes later, Iwaizumi’s asleep, his breathing soft, evened out. But even if he’s tired, Oikawa can’t fall asleep, stares up at the ceiling instead.

They do this all the time. Over and over again. Too afraid to definitively take what’s been sitting in front of them for years now, so obvious. Trying to hold back so they don’t do something stupid, something the other isn’t ready for.

It’d be so easy to go for it—a relationship between the two of them. To shoot his shot. To take a chance.

Sometimes, he wonders how they’d be now if he told Iwaizumi how he felt about him much sooner. If he’d kissed him on the sidewalk under the night sky one night in their third year of junior high. If he’d grabbed Iwaizumi’s hand on their walk home after their last game in high school. If he’d leaned in and kissed him when they were sitting on the swing at the park a few nights before he left. If he’d pressed a hand to Iwaizumi’s cheek, kissed him, a few months ago in San Juan when they woke up in Oikawa’s bed, tangled together, Oikawa’s heart still so full, ready to burst from the conversation the night before about him getting Argentinian citizenship.

Would they still be curled in this bed together; wanting to share touches that are more intimate than they’ve always shared? Would they have made it this far together?

He’s lucky that he’s not questioning their feelings for each other—he knows with almost complete certainty that Iwaizumi loves him too. That he has loved Oikawa for a long time. 

But somehow that makes something that shouldn’t be complicated even more complicated. They know they feel this way. They have for years. Have all but said aloud they should wait. Wait for the right timing.

But when _is_ the right timing? Oikawa’s beginning to think that if they just leave it up in the air like this, something they never speak about, they’ll keep searching for that figurative perfect time to fall into a relationship only to have that never happen.

He’s scared. Scared of holding Iwaizumi back by tying him up in a long distance relationship that would essentially be permanent, given his decision to stay in Argentina, which he’s always felt wouldn’t be fair of him to do. Scared of falling into this only to end up breaking up or ruining the friendship they’ve always had.

In that sense, it’s almost easier to sit in limbo like this. Not quite dating, but clearly more than only friends. Iwaizumi probably thinks that too. But until they talk about it, they’ll never know.

One day—maybe soon, maybe years from now—he thinks they’ll figure it all out. But until that happens, this is where they’ll stay. They’ll keep each other in their lives, remain as close as they always have been until they’re ready… _if_ they’re ready to take more than just what they’ve always had. It might not be ideal, but he’ll take standing by Iwaizumi’s side like this over diving into something new, something scary. He’ll _always_ take that.

* * *

“Iwa-chan! Congrats!” Oikawa meets Iwaizumi halfway, pulls him into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

He laughs, hugging Oikawa back just as tightly. “Thanks. And thanks for being here with me.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.” Oikawa smiles, face pressed to Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “So, is this where you throw the hat like they do in all those American graduations you see on TV?”

Iwaizumi groans, pulling back from the embrace so they’re face to face. But they don’t break it completely, arms still wrapped around each other. “I’m not throwing my hat.”

“Then can I throw it for you?”

“No way.”

“Boys, look over here and smile!” They both shift, turning to look at Iwaizumi’s mother, smiling for the picture she wants to take of them. Their arms thrown across each other’s shoulders, pressed close together, smiles bright.

“You two sure have come a long way from breaking vases,” she says with a laugh after she’s snapped the photo.

“Are we going to talk about that forever?” Iwaizumi asks, stepping away from Oikawa so he can hug both of his parents. “We apologized for it. And got in trouble.”

“Only because you got caught, Hajime,” his mother scolds, poking his cheek. “How many things have you two done over the years that none of us know about?”

“We would never,” Oikawa says, but off the top of his head he can think of at least ten instances of trouble they’ve gotten into or rules they’ve broken over the years that they’ve managed to hide from their families.

Iwaizumi nods. “Yeah, that’s right. We would never.” He pauses, slings his arm around Oikawa’s shoulders. “And if we did, it’s his fault.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Completely.”

“You’re such a liar, Iwa-chan. And to make up for it, you should take a picture with me.” Oikawa takes out his phone, holding it up between them.

“We just did that.”

“Yeah, but I want one too. You can’t just take one picture at your graduation.” He pulls Iwaizumi closer to him, even though they’re already so close. “And since you’re practically dormant on social media, it’s like I’m responsible for keeping people updated about your life.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but doesn’t pull away. “You probably just want it for a new lock screen picture. I can see right through you.”

Well, a new lock screen picture _and_ his Instagram because he likes to document these types of things, but those details don’t need to be hashed out. “Just smile and let me take the damn selfie, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi laughs, leaning against Oikawa’s shoulder so he can take the picture.

“Good?” he asks when Oikawa pulls the phone back to look at the picture he’s taken.

Yeah, it’s good. Of course it’s good because it’s the two of them. And even if it was blurry or something he’d never in a million years share on social media or a private moment he’d captured, it’s still them. It’s still theirs.

But it is good. Instagram worthy for sure. The gold of California’s sunlight and Iwaizumi’s smile _always_ look good to Oikawa. And he’ll take any photo freeze framing that for him that he can since he always has to go way too long without experiencing it in person in the short, fleeting bursts of time they do spend together.

Still, he jokes, “Well, _I_ look good. Not so sure about you, though.” 

Iwaizumi wraps an arm around his neck, jostling Oikawa so he’s laughing too. “Can they take back your degree because you’ve made a scene by attacking your best friend after graduation?”

“If they knew you, they’d probably thank me.”

“Hey, Hajime!” They turn to look where the voice came from. “Sorry to interrupt you and your boyfriend, but can you come here? We wanted to take a group picture of our cohort.”

“Yeah, be right there.” Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa again, cheeks red, a little flustered at his classmate assuming Oikawa is his boyfriend. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before from various people over the years, but every time it does it still jars them both a bit. “Sorry about that. I…”

Oikawa grins, waves his hand dismissively. “I-it’s fine. Nothing we’re not used to people thinking.” That’s what he’d said the last time it’d happened too. And the time before that. Always dismissive, always brushing off something that seems to be true from an outside perspective, but not the truth in reality.

Iwaizumi nods. “Yeah… yeah, okay.” He squeezes Oikawa’s arm, looks to him and both of his parents before he says, “I’ll be right back.”

“It’s nice to see the two of you together like this again.” Iwaizumi’s mother’s hand replaces her son’s on Oikawa’s arm. “I remember when you two were just babies,” she says, smiling at him when he looks at her. “Always together even back then.”

He doesn’t remember those early days or when they’d first met—they’d been way too young for that, only babies. But somehow it’s comforting to know that he’s had Iwaizumi in his life for the entirety of his twenty-two years. His whole lifetime. And that hasn’t changed even when they haven’t been so physically close together like they were the first eighteen years of their lives.

“Tooru, thank you for always being with Hajime.” 

He nods, smiling back at her. “Of course. Hajime’s always been with me through everything too.”

“I’m so glad that even with everything going on and how far apart you are you’ve still managed to remain close like this.”

It hasn’t always been easy to be this far apart, to continue to spend time so far away from each other. But they’re too stubborn and determined and love each other too much to throw away a lifetime of friendship over some distance. They’re way too important to each other to let that get between the strong, unbreakable friendship they’ve always had. And four years spent as close as when they’d been around each other every day has proven that. 

“Me too,” he says, setting the selfie they’d just taken as the lock screen on his phone. “I’m glad too.”

* * *

They spend most of the day with Iwaizumi’s parents until they part ways after they’ve had dinner. His parents go back to their hotel, and Iwaizumi and Oikawa go back to Iwaizumi’s apartment together.

Later in the evening, they sit side by side at Iwaizumi’s desk, in front of his laptop on a video call with Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Usually, the four of them will always find time to do this at least once a month, and it works out even better if Iwaizumi and Oikawa happen to be in the same space when they do this, so it’s become a bit of a tradition that they’d try to plan for this if they knew they’d be visiting each other.

“It’s always funny randomly seeing you two together in the same frame like this after months where we’re all our own windows on the screen,” Matsukawa comments idly.

“You two are in the same frame, too,” Oikawa points out because the two of them are together at Matsukawa’s apartment, just like Oikawa and Iwaizumi are together. The only difference is the location and the sixteen hours between them.

“But we actually live near each other, so that’s not surprising.”

“I mean, we _all_ could have been together in one place, but since Iwaizumi prioritizes his friends and only invites one to his graduation, guess not.”

Iwaizumi groans at the teasing. “We’ve been over this. I didn’t have enough tickets to invite all of you and my parents.”

“That’s a likely story, Iwaizumi.” Hanamaki’s not serious, but admittedly, it would have been nice to all be together again. It’s been a while.

“Well, if it was gonna be anyone who got invited, it was gonna be me.” Oikawa grins. “I’m always first choice. Lifelong best friend privileges.”

“Is that what you call it?”

Matsukawa sighs. “We should know this by now. Remember when they’d ditch us in high school to do something together?”

“We never did that.”

“Oh, please. You did it all the time.”

“The best was that you thought you were being subtle.”

“Does subtle even exist in Oikawa’s vocabulary, though?” 

“That’s why we’d always find out.” Matsukawa laughs. “Look how far we’ve all come. Iwaizumi’s got a degree from his big shot American university. Oikawa’s getting citizenship in Argentina and will be on their national team soon. And one day I’ll be a funeral home director.” He looks to Hanamaki, teasing. “What kind of plan do you have for yourself?”

“ _Obviously_ , I’ll be the president of Oikawa’s fan club.”

Matsukawa bursts into laughter, even though Hanamaki is clearly fucking with them all. “Y’know, you actually might have some competition with Yahaba for that role,” Matsukawa says. “Heard he wants it too.”

“Well Yahaba can pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

“Great, I’ll be on standby for when you two duke it out to the death over your big dream.”

Hanamaki slaps Matsukawa’s shoulder. “Quit talking shit. Oikawa’s gonna need a president for his fan club once he breaks into the international scene.”

Iwaizumi laughs too. “Oh my god, please don’t fuel his ego. I’ll have to listen to him talk about it all night.”

“Not my fault if that’s the most interesting thing you two have to do all night. _Alone_. In Iwaizumi’s apartment. If you catch my drift…”

“Makki, stoooop,” Oikawa whines, covering his face with his hands. It’s warm, probably red, both in embarrassment at the teasing about the two of them and the joking about being famous, making it big internationally. The fact that it’s really something that could happen in the future is…

“Really, though, picture it now! It’s the 2020 Olympics. We’re all in Tokyo at the same time. I wrangle whoever I can to watch Argentina grind Japan into dust when they finally face each other.” Hanamaki looks at Matsukawa. “We can all paint Argentina’s flag on our faces because there’s only one option to root for in this scenario. Sorry, Iwaizumi, but at the same time… not sorry?”

Iwaizumi shrugs and wraps his arm around Oikawa’s shoulders. “Nah, no hard feelings. I’d be right there with you if I wasn’t obligated to my own team.”

It’s just a hypothetical scenario. Oikawa’s not officially on Argentina’s national team yet, and Iwaizumi’s not a trainer for Japan’s national team. They’re still years away from making a scenario like this happen, but something about talking about their futures like this makes his heart seize with emotion. Besides being supportive of each other, the two of them have always had the support of their friends and families.

It’s only been a few months since he’s decided to get citizenship in Argentina, the national team’s right within his reach once it’s all official, yet everyone close to him who he’s told has been fully supportive. And he knows, realistically, it’s not always going to be that way. People will judge him. People will say he’s made a mistake or that he’s acting too rash and reckless and will regret doing this down the line. But right now, he only sees the boundless amount of love and support he’s received, and in the end, what those close to him think are the only opinions that matter.

“You guys, come on…” Oikawa says, face still partially hidden by his hands. He wants to pull them away, to smile and laugh and joke back along with them, but his lip quivers and his vision blurs with tears, overwhelmed by the sudden reminder of how much his closest friends really do support him.

“Are you gonna cry?” Matsukawa asks.

“Yeah, he is,” Iwaizumi confirms, leaning closer. “He’s trying to hide it from you guys.”

“Iwa-chan, you’re not supposed to tell them!”

This is all teasing, friendly banter and joking around about hypotheticals, but the fact that they’re even joking about it is just another way of showing support. Like the hypothetical is exactly what’s going to happen down the line and they don’t expect anything less.

“I hate you all. All you do is make fun of me,” Oikawa says, but really, he means _I love you all._

“Good try lying. We know you love us,” Hanamaki says.

Oikawa ignores that part. They know he does. He doesn’t have to confirm what Hanamaki’s saying. “You really should quit talking about me. This is Iwa-chan’s day, after all!”

“Nice deflection,” Hanamaki and Matsukawa both deadpan at the same time.

“Wow, that’s surprising to hear from you,” Iwaizumi teases, slinging an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

“I’m serious,” he mutters, pinching Iwaizumi’s arm. “And don’t be rude. You know that I’m always this nice.”

“Are you, though?”

“I am.”

“Oh man, we really should get together more often.” Matsukawa stretches his arms above his head, shifting in his seat next to Hanamaki. “Talking like this absolutely does not compare to the chaos of seeing you both in person.”

Hanamaki agrees. “Yeah, I volunteer Oikawa’s place. We can trash his apartment like we trashed Issei’s living room in high school.”

“We are not doing that,” Oikawa insists, but he can’t help laughing, knowing that one of these days that’s exactly what they’ll do.

They still talk for a while after that, eventually agreeing that in the next few months they should all meet up in person in Argentina, even if it is only for a few days. Even if the four of them together again after a long time will likely be a disaster, it will be fun, and he’s looking forward to it.

“Alright, we won’t keep you two any longer. It’s late over there and I’m sure you want your alone time.” Matsukawa grins. “Congrats, Iwaizumi! Enjoy your brief freedom before you start grad school.”

“Yeah, congrats, Iwaizumi!” Hanamaki echoes. “Make smart decisions, kids! Don’t have too much fun!”

The last thing they hear before the call ends is Matsukawa laughing at Hanamaki’s parting words.

“They’re too much.” Iwaizumi laughs too, moving to shut his laptop before he turns to look at Oikawa.

“Yeah, they are.” Oikawa misses them, though. All the time. It’ll be nice to see them again, to let them visit him.

“So… um…” Iwaizumi leans a little closer, his knee brushing against Oikawa’s. “There’s something I wanted to talk with you about.” 

That catches Oikawa off guard. “What is it?” He wants to reach forward and touch Iwaizumi, caught in the moment, wondering what he wants to say, but stops short. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, nothing bad, I promise. Just something I’ve been waiting for the right time to bring up. Wanted to talk in person, but this week’s been kind of hectic for us ‘til now.”

That’s like when Oikawa had wanted to talk to Iwaizumi about getting citizenship in Argentina. He’d waited to tell Iwaizumi until they saw each other in person again because a conversation like that deserved to happen in person, was easier to have in the same vicinity than when they’re so far apart and can’t touch each other.

“Okay, you can’t leave me hanging after saying that. What is it?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, actually. Ever since I got my acceptance to grad school and you told me Argentina offered you citizenship. I start school in August, and I have to do a practicum at some point as a graduation requirement. Rather than doing it here, I was thinking of spending my summer semester next year in San Juan.”

“R-really?” Oikawa asks when he finally finds his voice.

Iwaizumi nods, reaches for Oikawa’s hand and squeezes it. “Utsui-san said if my goal is to work for the national team, a lot of experience would be good, especially since I’m so young. And I’ve been working for a while at learning Spanish. I’m not as good as you are with it, obviously, but I’m not terrible anymore and Alicia’s been helping me for a while since she speaks Spanish.”

“Iwa-chan… you’re…?” Oikawa trails off, swallows the lump in his throat, blinks back the tears in his eyes before they can fall forward because he knows if he lets them, he won’t be able to stop them. “Y-you’d really want to do that?”

He smiles at him. “Yeah, I mean… this is your future, and it’s important to you, so I want to be part of it too. I thought if I’ve got the chance to do this and be part of your life in San Juan for longer than just a few days at a time, I’ll take it.”

Iwaizumi’s always been such an integral part of Oikawa’s past, present, and future. Despite all the judgment they’d received from outsiders saying with all the distance between them, their friendship would likely transform into something only meant to stay in the past, something that couldn’t last forever, they’ve still walked their own paths while keeping each other a permanent part of their lives. And if there’d ever been any uncertainty of how that might continue to work going forward now that Oikawa’s getting citizenship in Argentina, a pretty permanent and definitive choice, Iwaizumi’s sitting here, saying he wants to be part of Oikawa’s future, even though it’s parallel to his own, paths seemingly never meant to intersect with the changes in location. He’s making all this effort to be part of Oikawa’s life, even when he’s always fit so perfectly.

And _god,_ Oikawa is so fucking in love with him. He loves Iwaizumi with all of his heart.

That feeling has never changed, has never once wavered over the years because it’s the clearest truth, brighter than the sun, as easy as breathing. It’s a confession he should have made so, so long ago instead of just leaving it up in the air, waiting to be claimed when they were ready for it. But now, Oikawa can’t hold it back any longer. He doesn’t want to be afraid of it, doesn’t want to keep clambering for excuses that the timing’s never right, that selfishly confessing would only hold Iwaizumi back from wherever he’s meant to go or his own happiness by trying to make a long-distance relationship between them last.

He doesn’t want to regret this moment ten, fifteen, twenty years down the line. He wants this. He wants everything with Iwaizumi that the two of them have always held themselves back from taking.

“Hey, Tooru? Are you gonna say anything? I…”

He stands, chair scraping on the floor as he gets to his feet. Iwaizumi barely has time to do the same before Oikawa launches himself into his arms, nearly tackling him in a hug. Iwaizumi stumbles a little with the force of it, but catches Oikawa easily, just like he always does, and regains his balance before they topple over.

“I love you,” Oikawa says, arms locked tightly around Iwaizumi’s shoulders, legs wrapped around his waist. “Iwa-chan… Hajime, _I love you._ ”

As soon as the confession’s spoken aloud, finally able to settle between them after so many years, Iwaizumi pulls back from the hug, but still holds Oikawa in his arms. He looks at Oikawa like he’s beautiful, like he’s the only person in the universe, smile on his lips and eyes full of the same emotion Oikawa knows is all over his own face.

“I love you too, Tooru. _God_ , I love you so much.”

Oikawa kisses him, closes this tiny gap between them that’s been waiting years and years to be pushed together. His hands shift, moving to cup Iwaizumi’s cheeks instead, tilting his head up as their mouths move against each other’s.

They’re not just running side by side anymore, worrying about going too far ahead or trying to drag the other back. They’re finally, finally intersecting in the way they’ve always wanted to, the way they’ve known they wanted to, but always held back from taking that leap.

“I’ve wanted to do that for _so_ long,” Oikawa whispers when they break apart, his forehead knocking against Iwaizumi’s. He closes his eyes, sighing happily.

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi laughs, still breathless, cheeks red, lips swollen. Oikawa wants to devour him. “ _Yeah_. Me too. Sorry I kept you waiting so long.”

“It’s not like I did anything about it either,” he says. “I waited for a long time too.”

 _I’d wait forever for you._ He doesn’t say the words because he doesn’t need to. Even with all the time that’s passed and distance cutting through their lives, he still knows what every nudge of his shoulder, every press of Iwaizumi’s fingers means. He’s learned to shift from living with Iwaizumi physically by his side every day to experiencing that only once in a while now, growing accustomed to what it’s like to love someone when they’re so far away. But he’s never wavered once. Never will.

“That night at the park…” A few days before Oikawa left for Argentina. “I… I knew you loved me, and I thought you were gonna say it or that you’d kiss me.” Iwaizumi sighs, squeezing Oikawa’s waist gently. “And I wanted it so bad. I wanted to kiss you too. There’d been so many times before that I wanted to tell you I loved you and that I’ve always loved you, but I was scared, so I never said or did anything.”

He remembers Iwaizumi’s touch that day after the last match they’d played together in high school. His hand in Oikawa’s as he told Oikawa he was his best friend. His words had said one thing, but his eyes and his touch had said another—just like Oikawa now knows his own words and touch had done too at the park that night. But they’d always held back. They didn’t take what was so glaringly obvious in front of them out of fear it would break. So they waited. Kept things steady between them as they stepped into uprooting everything they’d ever known to move to different countries after high school.

He may have kept every confession and declaration of love he’s ever wanted to make silent. But touch can be just as loud, and prior to the words finally spilling forward for both of them, he thinks touch has revealed they’re in love with each other long before their words did.

“You’re not the only one, Iwa-chan. I knew you loved me. I have for a long time. And I was gonna say something, but I got scared too. I didn’t want to drag you through a long-distance relationship with me when we didn’t know how often we’d see each other or what would happen.” They were so young back then. In some ways, it’s almost better that they’ve waited, even if they did put themselves through years of pining, of wanting as a result. Now they’re older, more established, and sure of what they want and their futures.

“Me too,” Iwaizumi murmurs. He sets Oikawa down, now that the heat of the moment is gone—the confession, the kiss—but still holds him in his arms, keeps him close. “And I didn’t want you to make any decisions thinking of me. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to come back to Japan because of me or because it’d be easier to do that if we were dating. I didn’t want to hold you back from reaching wherever you’re meant to go.”

Maybe Iwaizumi knew long before Oikawa really admitted to himself that this is where he’d end up. That Argentina is where he’d stay. His heart feels all fuzzy when he thinks about it.

But he’s always had a suspicion that whenever Iwaizumi told him to keep going, to chase after his dreams and never look back, he could have been talking about himself too. He’s never said it to Oikawa, but they know each other inside and out, better than anyone else. Iwaizumi doesn’t always have to say what he’s thinking for Oikawa to know how he feels.

He’s feared, has even said, that it’s been something Iwaizumi thinks, that he’s afraid of—thinking he’s not good enough to be with Oikawa, that he’ll only hold him back. And Oikawa’s always thought that he’s dispelled those concerns, those insecurities, over the years through both words and touch. But maybe it’s time he makes sure Iwaizumi knows just how important he is to Oikawa, that he knows that Oikawa’s loved him and will _always_ love him through every moment of time and every inch of distance.

Iwaizumi’s always been part of his dream. Has always been the person he wants to stand beside in every moment—happy or sad, difficult or carefree. Whether that’s as just best friends or as a couple who are in love with each other. He has to know that.

“Hajime, you’ve never, ever held me back.” Oikawa’s hand cups his cheek, fingers brushing against Iwaizumi’s hair.

Iwaizumi frowns, immediately ready to protest. “Yeah, it’s easy to say that. But…”

Oikawa shakes his head, hating the momentary flash of a question, a _do you really want this?_ that he _knows_ Iwaizumi is thinking, that he might want to say. “Hajime, you’re acting like I’m ten steps ahead of you and if I want to be with you I’d have to turn back. I promise it’s not like that and it never has been. I’ve always been right here next to you.”

“Tooru…” But Iwaizumi doesn’t protest, doesn’t argue this time. He smiles, rests his hands on Oikawa’s cheeks as they press their foreheads together.

“You… you were always putting my happiness above…” His lip quivers, eyes stinging with tears. “God, Hajime, I love you. I love you so much.”

“You did the the same for me.” Iwaizumi’s thumb brushes away some of his tears. “Me too, Tooru. I’ve always loved you too. So fucking much.”

If infinity were tangible—something with a physical manifestation that he can reach for, curl his fingers around, obtain—Oikawa wonders if this would be it. The smash of Iwaizumi’s lips against Oikawa’s own. Their hands scrambling for purchase anywhere they can reach. The smiles and the laughter and the breathless _I love yous_ both of them whisper when they fall into Iwaizumi’s bed together.

Oikawa hits his head against the back of the headboard in their clumsy, emotion-charged motions. 

“ _Ow,_ ” he hisses the minute his head smacks against it, a shot of pain to the back of his head.

“Shit, sorry!” Iwaizumi pulls back, a little panicked. His hands rest on Oikawa’s cheeks, as if he’s checking if he’s alright. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Even with the momentary ache, Oikawa smiles, pulls Iwaizumi closer to him. “I’m fine, Iwa-chan.”

 _Kiss me again_ , he wants to say. _Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me._

“That is not the way I imagined this going.” He laughs a little, rests his forehead against Oikawa’s. “I’ve never done… and it’s _you_ , Tooru. I…”

“Yeah, it’s only me,” he whispers, cupping Iwaizumi’s cheek. “And I wanna have everything with you, Hajime. Forever.” 

Even if it’s clumsy. Even when it’s difficult. Through the good and the bad and the in between, all Oikawa wants is Iwaizumi and wherever the future takes the two of them. He’s wanted to give all of himself to his best friend, his other half, for so long now, and he finally can. He’s never wanted anything more than the person who’s holding him like this, the person who has always supported and loved him and protected the heart that’s been in his hands for his entire life.

“Tooru…” Iwaizumi’s face softens, lips curving into a smile as he leans in closer, kisses him again.

Iwaizumi kisses Oikawa with this slow burn passion, each touch warm and searing and gentle. Desire curls in his gut, contentment and love settled in his chest, his heart, every time their eyes meet, every time their skin brushes.

His legs wrap around Iwaizumi’s waist, draw him close in the way he’s always wanted him. Heart thrumming like it’s saying: _There you are. I’ve been waiting for you,_ finally set free from the glass barrier he’d put around it, waiting for the day he could fully give it to Iwaizumi in the way he’s always wanted to.

“I love you,” Iwaizumi whispers. “Love you so much, Tooru.”

Oikawa can’t hold back his laughter. “How many times are you going to say you love me?”

“You’re the one who said you want this forever.” He squeezes Oikawa’s hand that they have pressed into the pillow beside their heads. “So I’ll say it as many times as I can. _Forever_.”

Oikawa’s fingers curl in his shirt, pulling Iwaizumi close again. “Well, that’s a competition I can’t let you win, so I’ll have to up my game. Forever’s a long time.”

“A really long time,” Iwaizumi agrees. “And I’m gonna be with you for all of it.”

Oikawa laughs. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

They may have years of making up to do, but it really doesn’t feel that way. Right now, it just feels like they have everything they could ever want, and a whole stretch of forever waiting for them to run through, side by side.

* * *

The rest of their time together passes too quickly. Every time they’ve had to part after visiting each other, it’s always difficult to say goodbye, but they’ve done it. Something about this time, their first time doing it as a couple, makes it difficult to leave now, though.

“It’s… it’s always hard to say goodbye to you,” Oikawa murmurs when they’re standing together at the airport.

“I know.” Iwaizumi pauses for a moment, and Oikawa can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing he is. Does it ever get easier? Will it? “We’re gonna make it, though. It might not always be easy, but if anyone is gonna make this work, it’s us.”

Oikawa nods. It’s true. A lot of people probably wouldn’t keep a long-distance friendship like this going, let alone be able to transfer it to a romantic relationship. But they’ve always been good at taking on the impossible, staring it down, ready to fight for what they want. “I know.”

The past few days together have been amazing, everything he’s wanted for years and years. Being able to freely love and kiss and touch Iwaizumi. Finally able to refer to him as his boyfriend. Not having to hold back how totally and completely gone he’s been for Iwaizumi for so many years now.

Telling Iwaizumi’s parents that the two of them are together now had been met with zero surprise and a fully positive response. And Oikawa had to call and tell his parents in turn because if they found out secondhand from Iwaizumi’s parents, they’d be upset with him, so he had to share the news with his parents and Minako and Takeru.

 _This is literally the least surprising development of my life so far,_ Takeru had texted back when Oikawa broke the news to him. _It’s about time._

Iwaizumi had laughed so hard when Oikawa showed him Takeru’s response that he nearly fell out of his seat. “Oh god, I miss Takeru so much. He’s my favorite kid.”

“Aren’t your cousin’s kids the only other kids you know?” Takeru isn’t really a kid anymore either. He’s twelve now, almost a teenager.

“Yeah, but I don’t ever really see them. And either way, Takeru would still be the best.”

It’s nice to know their families are happy for them. To know they support them.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Iwaizumi finally says.

“Me too,” Oikawa murmurs when they hug each other. “But you’re right. We’re gonna make it.”

He kisses Iwaizumi’s cheek when they pull apart. “Thanks for everything, Iwa-chan.”

“Of course.” He squeezes Oikawa’s hand. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

Home. Before, it’d just always been ‘call me when you get back’ or ‘call me when you land.’ Now Iwaizumi calls San Juan Oikawa’s home. His home, his place. Something he hadn’t expected, yet he’s begun to love with all of his heart.

San Juan _is_ his home now. But there’s something else too. _Someone_ he’s always associated with what home means to him. 

“My home’s right here too,” Oikawa says, pressing his palm against Iwaizumi’s chest, right over his heart. “Always has been. No matter where we go or how long we spend apart, I…”

Iwaizumi’s hand rests over his, fingers slotting between the spaces in Oikawa’s fingers that are pressed Iwaizumi’s chest. “That’s so sappy,” he says, totally fond, eyes soft. He squeezes Oikawa’s hand.

“I’m just trying to say something nice before I go get on a plane when I don’t know when I’ll see you next, Iwa-chan. And you’re currently ruining it.”

“I never said I didn’t like it.” Iwaizumi smiles at him, bright, even as the last vestiges of golden sunlight slip through the airport’s large glass windows.

They probably look out of place to anyone walking by who may be paying attention to the private moment—standing off to the side in the busy lobby of LAX, clasped hands resting over Iwaizumi’s heart, saying how home is more than just a physical manifestation for the two of them. It’s right here, in each other’s hearts.

“You’re my home too,” Iwaizumi continues, his free hand settling on Oikawa’s chest, over his heart too. “Always. And even though I can’t promise you an exact time when I’ll see you next, I can promise that I’ll always be here for you. And no matter how far apart we are, I’ll never stop loving you.”

“Me too,” Oikawa whispers. “Always.”

Finally, they break apart, knowing they’ll have to part, to separate again.

“I’d better go or I’ll be standing in line at security forever.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Yeah.”

Oikawa lets go of Iwaizumi, turns to walk away. But before he can, a hand wraps around his, pulls him closer.

“Hey, Tooru.” Iwaizumi takes his hand, pulls Oikawa back in before he can walk away. “Keep going, okay? Don’t stop. I will too, and I expect to see you on the international stage one day. And when that happens…”

“I’ll win!” Oikawa finishes for him.

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“But we both know that’s what will happen.” Oikawa leans in, wraps his arms around Iwaizumi again. “I love you, Hajime.”

“I love you too.”

It’s difficult to say goodbye, but there’s so much to look forward to together now. Even if it won’t always be easy, the future is bright. They’ll make it happen.

* * *

****

“Are you sure you’re able to spend time with me like this, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa jokes, probably for the millionth time in the week since he arrived back in Japan. He got here a week earlier than the rest of his teammates so he could spend some time with his family in Miyagi before he has to be in Tokyo to prepare for the Olympics. “Won’t everyone think you’re betraying them by spending so much time with me?”

“If you’re going by that logic, I’m fucked because I’ve been dating the enemy for four years.”

Oikawa laughs from his seat on the swing. “That’s true.”

“Is it strange for you?” Iwaizumi asks after a moment. He squeezes Oikawa’s hand. “Being back here?”

“No, I think it’s nice.” Different, but nice. So much has changed in the years since he’d gone to Argentina. But this place has remained exactly the same. This park, this swing set, Iwaizumi sitting beside him.

So much has changed, but some things are permanent. He may have tied himself down to a place, made a life there that is far different from the life he’d lived in Japan until he was eighteen. But he’s always been tied to a person too, no matter how far they’ve been apart or where they’ve gone.

“It’s nice to see my family,” he continues. “And you, of course. And I’m excited to be back here for the Olympics.”

“Yeah, can’t blame you for that. Everyone’s about to see why I say you’re the best setter.”

“Don’t think sweet talking me now will make me go any easy on your team in a few days.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Oh damn, there goes the entire strategy.”

“Too bad I figured out your plan ahead of time.” Oikawa laughs, grabbing onto the chain of Iwaizumi’s swing to pull them close together.

“We really made it here.” Iwaizumi laughs, resting his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders. “Can you believe it?”

“If anyone could, I knew it’d be us.”

People may like to say Oikawa hasn’t gotten gold when it’s mattered most—he never made it to Nationals in junior high or high school. Hasn’t got a physical thing to show of his time playing in Japan. Hell, some might even say he’d decided to stay in Argentina because he couldn’t make it here, on this court, on this stage.

But he’s always had something golden. Something beautiful. Someone he loves with all of his heart, all of himself, and every day he gets that same type of love in return. Every day of his life, whether it was in the eighteen they grew up together, or the nine they’ve spent still growing together, just not in such close proximity.

“Yeah. Me too.” Iwaizumi stands up from his seat on the swing beside Oikawa in favor of moving in front of him, kneeling down so they’re face to face. “I’m so proud of you.”

Oikawa smiles. “I’m proud of you too, Iwa-chan. There’s no one else I’d want to be here with.”

“Me too.” He squeezes Oikawa’s knee gently, fingers caressing the skin there. If he didn’t know better, he’d suck in a breath, wonder if Iwaizumi planned to propose to him right here. It wouldn’t be much of a shock if he did.

When he shuts his eyes, he can imagine the weight of a ring on his finger, the way its gold would catch in the sunlight.

But when he opens his eyes, Iwaizumi’s right in front of him, a golden thread tied to his heart in the fading summer daylight. Ring or not, that’ll never change. They could get married in five minutes or five years and nothing would change between them.

He’s sure his eyes have gone totally soft, filled with love for his most important person, the one who holds his heart. Iwaizumi’s the only one who can see him and know him and love him like this. Through the good and the bad. In the quiet and the chaotic. When it’s as easy as breathing and when it’s difficult. Through miles and miles of distance and when they’re right next to each other.

_I want to be with you forever._

He’d thought it as a child, teenager, adult. It all started here in Miyagi, but the feeling has never once wavered no matter where they’ve been and where they go. Whether they’ve been in Japan or California or Argentina. It’s all the same truth, undeniable and all-consuming.

Iwaizumi takes Oikawa’s face in his hands, so different than the hands pressed to his shoulders nearly nine years ago here, when they’d held each other at arm’s length, silently agreeing to hold back, to wait. Now, it’s all tumbled forward. Years later, hearts in each other’s hands.

Oikawa sucks in a breath. “I love you, Hajime.”

“I love you too, Tooru.” And he leans in to kiss him.

Oikawa’s hands slide from their grip on the chains of the swing, settle on Iwaizumi’s cheeks instead as he leans forward in the seat, into the kiss and—

“Uncle Tooru! Uncle Hajime!”

It still warms his heart as much now as it did the first time Takeru called Iwaizumi his uncle. It’d been on a video call between the three of them a while back, when Takeru was still in junior high. He’d been calling to tell the two of them the latest about his own experiences playing volleyball on his school’s team.

(“You have an uncle who plays professionally, yet you’re not asking me for help?” Oikawa asks, only pretending to be offended by Takeru asking Iwaizumi for help.

“I also have an uncle who played the same position I do, so I’ll ask him instead of you.”

“Yeah, let the kid ask who he wants, Tooru.” Iwaizumi grins. “Yeah, Takeru, you can ask me anything you want, okay? Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Uncle Hajime.”

“Any time.”

When they’d said goodbye to Takeru, and he left the call, Iwaizumi and Oikawa stayed on for a few more minutes.

“Hey, Iwa-chan? Everything okay?” Oikawa asks once it’s the two of them alone again.

“Yeah. It’s just… Takeru called me…”

Oikawa had noticed it too. “It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Of course not. He’d be calling me his uncle eventually whenever we end up…” Getting married. Even early on in their relationship, it’s something they know that they want. “Besides, I’ve known him since he was born. It’s not weird. He’s my family as much as he’s yours. I was just surprised. But I’m happy.”

Oikawa smiles. “Me too.”)

The fact that they view each other’s families as their own, that they’ve chosen each other and to think that way makes him feel warm. This comfortable, settled and content feeling of knowing what comes next. Of stability and the easiness of choosing to spend their lives together.

“What’s up, Takeru?” Iwaizumi asks.

Takeru scrunches up his nose, like he’s embarrassed to have walked in on them kissing. “Um, if you guys want to stop that, grandma asked me to come find you. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Y’know, it’s rude to interrupt, Takeru,” Oikawa says, savoring the moment a little longer before they pull apart, Iwaizumi’s hands wrapped around Oikawa’s. “For all you know, Iwa-chan could have been proposing to me and you would have ruined it.”

Takeru shrugs, nonchalant. “Well he wasn’t, so…”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?”

“Yeah, what is the point?” Iwaizumi adds in, amused by their banter, his hands clasped around Oikawa’s as they stand and step away from the swings to follow Takeru back.

“Really, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa juts his lip out in an overdramatic, exaggerated pout. He holds up his free hand, his left one, and waggles his fingers in Iwaizumi’s face. “Don’t you wanna put a ring on this?”

Iwaizumi shrugs, but shoots Oikawa a grin. “Yeah, eventually.”

 _When it’s right for us,_ they had agreed when they’d talked about it a while back. It’s not a matter of if they’ll get married, it’s a matter of when. That’s one of the things they’d talked about extensively when they first started dating—what they want, where they want to go and where they see themselves in a few years.

“Well, mom, grandma, and Hajime’s mom have a bet going about when it’ll happen,” Takeru says, turning around to face them as he continues to walk backwards. “They’ve been talking about it all week and haven’t done a very good job of hiding it. I’m surprised you guys haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t they have better things to talk about?” Oikawa sighs, exaggerated, and leans against Iwaizumi’s side. “Wanna walk in there and tell them we got engaged? Just to see their faces?”

They’d figure out it’s a lie so quickly, but the reactions would be worth it. Payback for talking about them behind their backs, like it’s some big secret.

After suggesting it, he thinks Iwaizumi might scold him for wanting to mess with their families like that, but all he does is grin at Oikawa in that same way as when they were kids and they’d be up to no good, ready to get into some type of trouble together. “Let’s do it.”

Takeru sighs. “You two are the worst. How am I the teenager and you’re twenty-seven?”

“I’m still only twenty-six, though.” Oikawa grins. “Don’t make me older than I am.”

“Like that makes a difference?” Takeru shoots back. “Your birthday is in a couple of days!”

“That doesn’t matter. I’d say we could do even more to prank them and take a picture pretending, but I’ve learned my lesson asking you to take a picture on my phone, Takeru. That’ll never happen again.”

“I was only seven. It’s been nine years! Get over it.”

Details,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway, more importantly, who are you rooting for, Takeru?” Oikawa leans against Iwaizumi’s side as he asks the teasing, baiting question. “I hope it’s me. I got you tickets to go watch, after all. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

“Not like you have anyone else to invite,” Takeru mumbles with an eye roll. “‘sides, I can cheer for both of you.”

“You definitely can. Don’t let Tooru try to goad you into picking a side.” Iwaizumi reaches out to pinch Oikawa’s nose. “‘cept it won’t matter because _I’m_ going to win.”

“Only in your dreams, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa slaps his hand away before pointing at Takeru. “And _you’re_ a traitor! I’m your flesh and blood!”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Takeru says flatly.

Not too far away, he can see his childhood home. Its familiarity and welcome presence even after years away. His family and Iwaizumi’s family are there right now, waiting for them. Tonight’s the last night they’ll stay here before the Olympics. Tomorrow morning they’ll both need to head out to Tokyo to meet up with their respective teams.

He lets go of Iwaizumi’s hand. “Race you back?”

“Hell yeah. Another thing to beat you at. Preview for the Olympics, right?” Iwaizumi takes off in a run, leaving Oikawa behind him.

“Really, Iwa-chan?!” Oikawa runs after him, leaving Takeru to follow behind, wondering aloud why he spends time with the two of them. “Fucking cheater!”

When Oikawa catches up to Iwaizumi, he jumps onto his back, clinging onto him tightly. Their laughter’s loud, happy as Iwaizumi regains his balance, catches them before they can fall. 

“Call it a tie?” Oikawa asks, breathless, as he leans forward, presses a kiss to Iwaizumi’s cheek.

“Fine, this time it’s a tie.” He sets Oikawa down despite Oikawa’s protests that Iwaizumi should carry him inside, but takes his hand so they can go in together.

“Hey, everyone, guess what?” Oikawa starts when they open the door to his childhood home.

“We got engaged!” They shout at the same time, huddled in the tiny doorway, hands still clasped, awaiting the desired reaction when everyone present hears the ‘news.’

Minako pokes her head into the hallway. Her eyes are wide, surprised. But she’s not looking at Oikawa. Instead, she’s looking at Iwaizumi. “Really? Hajime, did you…?”

Takeru groans and pushes past them, ducking under their linked hands so he can get in the house. “They’re lying. Don’t believe a word they say.”

“Really, Takeru? You had to ruin it like that?”

Minako narrows her eyes, but turns to speak with her parents to tell them it’s just a false alarm. The loud chatter from their parents in the other room instantly dies down. Oikawa swears he hears his brother-in-law say, “I thought something exciting was about to happen,” from the doorway. Apparently everyone in this household is nosy, so the payback was well deserved, even if it hadn’t worked out as intended thanks to Takeru.

“So you think it’s funny to tell lies?” Minako asks when she steps into the hallway.

“Well, I heard from a certain someone when he came to tell us to come back that apparently it’s been a topic of conversation all week without our knowledge, so I wanted to get you all back.”

“You’re such a kid.”

“That’s what I told him,” Takeru says.

He ignores Takeru and Minako, pulling away from Iwaizumi when his other nephew, Minako’s almost two year old son, Hiroki, walks into the hallway. “Oh look, it’s my _favorite_ nephew, who will definitely be rooting for me,” he says, scooping Hiroki up into his arms.

“He’s literally a _baby_ , Tooru,” Takeru deadpans, watching as Oikawa holds his brother. “He has no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Sssh, Takeru. You’re ruining the moment.” Oikawa presses his cheek against Hiroki’s, who laughs at the attention. “Hiroki actually has taste and valid opinions, unlike the rest of you.” As soon as he says that, though, Hiroki’s little fist collides with the side of Oikawa’s head, and he laughs louder when he winces. “Okay, ow…”

“Oh yeah, he definitely has taste,” Iwaizumi says with a laugh, Takeru snickering beside him.

“Well _you_ just lied and told everyone you were engaged to me, so what does that say about your taste, Iwa-chan?”

“That was your idea, not mine.” Iwaizumi steps forward and takes Hiroki from Oikawa when he reaches out for him. “And obviously I have terrible taste too.” He steps into the other room, followed by Takeru, leaving Oikawa alone with his sister.

“You walked into that one,” Minako says, lips curved into an amused grin from watching the exchange before her.

“Technically, it’s your fault since your kids like my boyfriend better than me.”

“Clearly, I’ve raised them well.” Minako laughs at his dramatics, but grabs his wrist before he can go into another room. “You know we all love you, right?”

“Yeah, of course I know that.” 

Minako pinches his cheek like she used to when he was a kid. “I really got it wrong when I said you’d quit volleyball and forget about it in a few weeks, didn’t I?”

“I told you I wouldn’t.” He smacks her hand away, rubbing at his cheek.

“Yeah, you did.” She smiles, resting her hand on his shoulder instead. “I’m really proud of you, y’know. I didn’t tell you back then, but I was really worried about you going to live in Argentina on your own when you were only eighteen. But it’s been so good for you, and you’ve done so well.”

“Thanks. Really, Minako. For everything.” After Iwaizumi, his sister is the first person that he’d told he was planning to go to Argentina after high school. And it’d been the same when he decided to go through with getting citizenship there. Every time he’s had something to share with her, she’s been nothing but supportive. No matter how much they bickered when they were younger or how much they tease each other now, she’s always been there whenever he’s needed her.

“Back at you, Tooru. I’ll never forget how you were there when I was going through a divorce or how you were there for Takeru and helped give him stability I couldn’t while trying to juggle work and raising him on my own. Even though you were just a teenager.” She squeezes his shoulder.

Yeah, of course he would. Minako got married and had Takeru when she was still pretty young, and a divorce had been rough on her already, but the fact that her ex had basically disappeared from her life completely when Takeru was still really young made it worse. Of course he’d be there for Minako when she needed help.

“You’re a good brother,” she continues. “And a good uncle. He’d probably never tell you, but Takeru brags about you all the time. He thinks the world of you.”

Oikawa’s known that for a while too. From Takeru’s own actions, despite the teasing, bickering type of dynamic the two of them have always had. He’d only been eleven when Takeru was born, and he remembers bragging to everyone he’d known that he was going to be an uncle. They’ve always been close, but even more so as Takeru got older. He had no father figure in his life and Oikawa always tried to help fill that empty space when he could.

Even though he’s been in Argentina for almost nine years, they’re still just as close. They talk all the time, spend time together every time he visits. Oikawa loves Takeru and Hiroki too.

“He’s a good kid. You should be proud.”

“I am. And I’m proud of you too.” She pulls him into a hug. “My little brother is going to be an Olympian. I can’t believe you’re the same brat who figured out how to break the lock on my bedroom door when you were only four so you could sneak in and either destroy or steal my stuff.”

“I did no such thing.” He _did_ do exactly what she’s accusing him of, but he doesn’t have to admit that. He pulls back from the hug. “Don’t ruin this.”

Minako laughs. “I’m happy for you. We all are. And no matter what happens in Tokyo, I hope you know how amazing you are.”

“Mina…” He smiles, can’t hold it back. “Thanks.”

“I’m only speaking the truth.” She shoves him gently. “Now c’mon. Dinner’s probably ready and we really don’t need mom and dad yelling at us to hurry up like when we were kids, do we?”

He shakes his head. “Nope! Let’s go.”

* * *

Late that night, they lay in bed together, Iwaizumi’s lips against Oikawa’s, every touch between them a slow burning fire, electricity crackling. They kiss and touch the slow and gentle way Oikawa likes it. Loving and tender where they spend what feels like an eternity taking each other apart—fingers intertwined, pressed into the pillows next to their heads, Oikawa’s head tipped back, breathy moans of _Hajime_ and _please_ and _more more more_ before those words are swallowed up with kisses.

They’re so intertwined it’s like they can’t be separated, and in these moments, Oikawa can’t help but think of how much he loves Iwaizumi. Loves the familiar pressure of his fingers, the way his arms settle around Oikawa and hold him close. Loves his warmth, the way he whispers _Tooru_ and _I love you._ Loves his smile, and the kisses he presses to Oikawa’s neck, his face, his lips.

These are the only pair of eyes that truly know Oikawa and love him for everything he is. It’s everything he could ever want—the most important person to him here to claim his heart, his touch so devoted to him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Iwaizumi whispers, hand cupping Oikawa’s cheek when he shifts their position, pulls Oikawa close to him in an embrace. Their foreheads rest against each other’s, breath mingling, hearts beating in tandem. 

“No, _you_ are,” Oikawa murmurs, then pulls Iwaizumi into another kiss. Iwaizumi’s the most beautiful person Oikawa’s ever met. Physically, of course, but there’s so much more to it, too. Iwaizumi has the most beautiful heart Oikawa’s ever known. And every day he thinks he’s lucky to experience it and receive all of the love Iwaizumi gives him.

He’s spent almost twenty-seven years with Iwaizumi, learning every piece of him, sharing every piece of himself in turn. And he never tires of it, of this steady contentedness that accompanies loving his very best friend, the other half who’s smoothed out all his jagged pieces to the point where the two of them fit together so perfectly, not meant to be torn apart.

In some ways, it’s like making up for the years they’ve spent so much time apart. But he knows he’d feel this way had they spent every day together and initiated their relationship like that instead. The quiet, mundane moments are ones he never tires of. Instead, he craves things like fighting over the blankets or if they should sleep with the window open or shut. Moments like hip checking each other in the kitchen or brushing his foot against Iwaizumi’s leg under the table when they eat together. Silly, simple things they don’t get to experience nearly as often as other couples might.

But one day they’ll have that.

They’ll have all of it.

“What’s with that look, baby?” Iwaizumi asks him once they’ve settled, tangled up in bed together, fingers tracing idle patterns on Oikawa’s back.

Baby. The endearment no longer makes him flush red like it used to. When they’d been watching some American movie in Iwaizumi’s bed, and Oikawa had heard one of the characters say it, asking teasingly why Iwaizumi never called him things like that.

The tables were turned on him much too quickly, though, when Iwaizumi casually carded his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, said “Okay, baby,” without a hint of embarrassment, while Oikawa felt he was going to die and combust on the spot.

It doesn’t have the same effect it did years back—nothing that used to embarrass him early on in their relationship really does now because they’re so settled, comfortable with being a couple in ways they weren’t in the beginning—but the endearment still makes him feel warm all over, loved, so happy with the person he’s chosen to spend his life with and who has chosen Oikawa in turn.

“Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Iwaizumi laughs, his lips brushing against Oikawa’s forehead. “Back at you.”

He can’t wait until this is theirs, something they can have and live every single day.

“Mmm, hey,” he says sleepily, shifting so he’s more comfortable against Iwaizumi’s chest.

“What?”

“Wanted to ask you earlier… why did Minako seem so weird when we were joking that we got engaged? I expected her to say something to me, but she was looking at you and asking…”

“Don’t know.” Iwaizumi reaches for Oikawa’s hand from where it rests on his chest, playing with his fingers while he answers. “Takeru said they’ve been talking about it all week. She probably just was surprised.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” He yawns, fingers tangling with Iwaizumi’s. “She literally always has wedding fever since she’s an event planner, so it might be that. She’ll probably never leave us alone whenever we do get engaged because she’ll want to help plan the wedding.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “Yeah, you’re probably right. She asks sometimes if I’m gonna propose to you.”

Oikawa groans. “Sorry. My sister is the most embarrassing person on the face of the planet.”

“More embarrassing than you?” Iwaizumi teases, squeezing Oikawa’s hand. He laughs softly. “Hey, do you remember that time when we were little when Minako was teasing you about some girl at the park she thought liked you? She said you should marry her, and you fuckin’ jumped on me saying you couldn’t marry her because you and me were gonna get married.”

Oikawa laughs too as the memory Iwaizumi’s talking about hits him. “How could I forget? I sprung that on you and then you proposed to me with a rock you found on the ground.” Oikawa laughs, and he squeezes Iwaizumi’s hand. “You told me if I kept it forever, it meant we’d be together forever. I should have known the type of romance I was in for then.”

It’s easy to joke about it now, years and years later, but the gesture had been sweet. A simple thought shrouded in childhood innocence and love for his closest friend. But Oikawa still has that rock, has kept it all of these years. Back here in Miyagi, it’d just been something he held onto, there, but not always actively thought about, but it was significant enough to get packed away with his other things when he left for Argentina years ago. Tucked away, but never forgotten.

“I was like… four. I didn’t know how getting married worked. And you seemed pretty happy about it.” It explains why Minako laughed and laughed at them about it, even years later. That they sealed a promise to get married, spur of the moment, with a rock Iwaizumi found on the ground and claimed was the best one at the park. “Besides, don’t you still have that rock somewhere?”

“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”

“That means you do.”

“Like I said, maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”

Iwaizumi groans. “Okay, not to sound old as fuck, but we have to get up early to go tomorrow, so we should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I know.” He brings their clasped hands to his lips, kisses Iwaizumi’s fingers. “You do sound old as fuck, though.”

“Shut up, Tooru.”

He laughs, quiet and happy, as he settles down to sleep. Iwaizumi’s right. They have to get up early, and Oikawa _is_ tired. The next few weeks are going to be busy anyway. There might not be much time for them to spend a night together like this once they get to Tokyo. 

The opening ceremony is only a few days away. Just a few more days until Oikawa can finally do everything he’s said he wanted.

It’s nerve wracking, a little terrifying, but exciting. If Oikawa’s fourteen year old self saw him now, just a few days shy of twenty-seven, he wouldn’t believe he could have this all. A starting spot on Argentina’s national team, jersey as blue as the sky. Wrapped in the arms of the person he’s been in love with for so many years, his entire life, really. Talking about getting married, certain that they’ll spend the rest of their lives together.

He can picture it now. A house the two of them settle down in and make their home together. A dog running around the hall, sleeping at their feet in their bed. Pictures on the walls of their whole lives spent together. Kids, eventually, a family they build together. A gold medal proudly on display, symbolic of all the hard work it’s taken to get here, to all he’s poured into volleyball over the past twenty years to receive it.

Their hearts have always been linked by a golden thread. The kind that’s impossible to cut through or that will never fray because it’s timeless and strong, unbreakable.

 _God,_ he’s so lucky. So happy. Years ago, he never thought he’d make it here. Never expected that he’d hold everything he loves most in his hands. A person and a place and thing—Iwaizumi and Argentina and volleyball. All are pieces of him and he’s never had to give up one to have the other.

When he was a teenager, sometimes he’d get so caught up in how he could possibly move forward, wondering how he could ever hold everything he’s ever wanted. But now, his teenaged self would be happy, proud to know he’s made it here. That any hell he’d went through on the way has been well worth it to arrive here.

“I love you, Hajime,” Oikawa whispers as he’s drifting off to sleep. “I’m so glad it’s you here with me like this.”

“Me too, baby.” Iwaizumi kisses the top of Oikawa’s head. “I love you too. Wouldn’t wanna be here with anyone else.”

Just a few more days, and the moment he’s been waiting for will arrive. And he’s ready. Ready to go for gold until the medal is hanging around his neck. But even if he ends up with something less—silver, bronze—it’s okay. Because he still has the most beautiful, golden person beside him. And that means just as much to him because Iwaizumi’s always been part of his dreams too.

* * *

In the quarterfinals, Argentina finally faces off against Japan.

Oikawa spins the ball in his hands before he serves to start the match, just like he might have nine years ago, standing across the court from rivals he’d played throughout his volleyball career in Japan.

But stepping on this court for this match is totally different. His arms stretched wide like he’s ready to take on the world, ready to climb his way to the top and say _here I am! I made it here too!_

Nine years ago, he stood on courts much smaller than this, wondering how he could make it further than he’s ever gone, questioning if he was good enough.

Nine years ago, he might have seen Kageyama or Ushijima on the opposite side of the court and torn himself apart over how he could never reach that level, no matter how hard he tried. He might have felt small, insignificant, terrified but a master at masking it.

Nine years ago, he sat on a swing in sleepy little Miyagi, down on himself, not knowing what the future would hold for him.

But today, he stands on a court in a huge stadium in Tokyo for the quarterfinals of the 2021 Olympics, the whole world watching his every move.

Today, he’s not scared or beating himself up over all he thought he could never be. He doesn’t look at Kageyama or Ushijima and see something to be afraid of, a genius ideal he’d never be able to touch. He no longer sees monsters he can never defeat in a battle, but humans he can emerge victorious against.

Today, Iwaizumi’s eyes meet his from the opposite side of the court, proud. And it’s not the same as the days of them side by side before the start of a match, but something about the hug he’d received before, the quiet encouragement to kick ass, is even better. The two of them are achieving their dreams together, just like they always said they would. Even if it’s different than how they first imagined, on opposite sides instead of next to each other. And that’s okay. It’s perfect, actually.

Today, Oikawa’s not uncertain or afraid of what comes next. Today, he feels like he can do anything. Like he’s invincible.

* * *

Argentina wins three of five sets against Japan, knocking them out of contention for gold. That alone—making it to the semifinals in his first run at the Olympics, beating every rival he’s wanted to, proving that it didn’t fucking matter that he’d never been to Nationals in his time playing in Japan or that even if his path had been different, unconventional, it’s ultimately been right—should be enough.

But he wants more. There’s still more he wants to accomplish while he’s here, and this is just another step up that ladder. He’s so close to gold, he can feel it.

When Oikawa has a moment of quiet, waiting for Iwaizumi to meet up with him so they can go see Minako and Takeru like they’d promised, Hanamaki FaceTimes him, trying to shove Matsukawa, Yahaba, and Watari into the frame all at once so Oikawa can see all of them, can hear all of their shouts and congratulations. Just like Hanamaki joked about years ago, he’d wrangled their teammates to watch when Argentina faced off against Japan. They’d even painted Argentina’s flag on their faces.

Yahaba slams his fist on the table. “Those commentators who kept harping on and on that you’d never been to Nationals look so stupid now. They’re gonna look even worse when you win a gold medal!”

Oikawa laughs. “I hope so!”

“Sooo, do you think you and Iwaizumi are gonna be the talk of the internet?” Hanamaki asks, baiting, teasing, looking for some type of reaction out of Oikawa. 

“We just hugged.” Oikawa shrugs. “That’s no big deal. And trust me, they’re gonna be treated to a lot more than that if I make it to the finals and win.”

“I mean, in most cases that _would_ be valid to say, but…”

Matsukawa finishes for Hanamaki, “But you’d have to be oblivious not to pick up on the way you two look at each other.”

“Well, actually, how many years were the two of them oblivious for?”

“That’s true! Except they were oblivious and then _chose_ to remain oblivious even after they finally did wise up.”

Oikawa groans. “Can we please not relive how dumb Iwa-chan and I were? We know it was stupid now, but back then it didn’t seem that way.”

“Hey, leave my boyfriend alone.” Iwaizumi’s arms curl around Oikawa’s waist when he walks over, pulling him back against his chest as he inserts himself into the conversation. “We got our shit together eventually and that’s all that matters. Right, babe?”

Oikawa nods, smiling as he leans back, pushing himself closer to Iwaizumi. He turns his head so their eyes meet, and sees nothing but love and warmth staring back at him. “That’s right. Took a while, but we made it here.”

“See what I mean?” Matsukawa asks. “You two are so soft on each other.”

“He kind of has a point, Oikawa-san. Your whole face lit up when you realized Iwaizumi-san was here.”

Oikawa grins. “Yahaba, aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Before he can respond, Hanamaki wraps an arm around Yahaba’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “We’ve taught him well.”

“So, anyway,” Matsukawa begins, directing his attention to Iwaizumi. “Welcome to the best group call, other man of the hour. Sorry about the loss.”

“Yeah, Iwaizumi-san, sorry! But we’re all proud of you too.” Watari looks a little lost in the chaos of trying to smash four people into one tiny frame on FaceTime while they’re sitting in some loud bar, but they’re all making it work.

Iwaizumi grins. “Thanks guys. If I had to lose to anyone, I’d want it to be this idiot.” He squeezes Oikawa’s waist. “So it’s fine. At least Argentina gets to move on to the semifinals.” 

“Hey, one of these days, maybe you two should get yourselves on the same team again. Then we’d have a real easy time cheering for you both. Right, guys?” Hanamaki looks at their other friends, who all voice some type of agreement over the loudness of the space they’re in.

Iwaizumi smiles. “Yeah, maybe one day we can be.”

“Hm?” Oikawa turns his head so their eyes meet. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just agreeing with them.” He squeezes Oikawa’s waist one more time before he lets go and takes his hand instead. “And there’s nothing wrong with keeping options open.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Oikawa agrees, but he still wonders if Iwaizumi had just been agreeing or if he’d meant something more specific.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi tugs on Oikawa’s hand a few moments later into the conversation. “Takeru and Minako are probably waiting for us. Don’t wanna keep them too long.” 

“We will take that as our cue to leave,” Matsukawa says. “Enjoy your night together. We’re gonna have a blast here.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “Don’t burn the place down, guys.”

“Us? Never!” There’s a loud clatter of glass when Watari’s elbow knocks into something.

“Okay, point taken,” Hanamaki says with a defeated look on his face. “Go get your gold, Oikawa! We’re rooting for you!”

“Congrats, Oikawa-san!” Yahaba and Watari scream in unison.

“Thanks guys! I’ll talk to you later.”

As soon as he disconnects the call and puts his phone away, Iwaizumi pulls him into a kiss.

“Been waiting all day to do that,” he murmurs against Oikawa’s lips when they pull apart.

Oikawa’s fingers curl in Iwaizumi’s shirt, hands resting on his waist. “Coincidentally, I have too.” A happy sigh escapes his lips when they rest their foreheads against each other. “What’re you looking at me like that for?”

Soft, proud eyes. Filled with so much love it feels like it knocks the breath out of Oikawa.

“You mean I can’t look at my boyfriend just because I want to?” Iwaizumi rests his hand on Oikawa’s face, thumb caressing his cheekbone. “I’m just really proud of you. Love seeing you so happy like this.”

“You’re a sap, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispers, squeezing his waist. But the truth is, they both are. Sappy and totally in love and any time they’re together like this, it’s like they’re making up for all the times they never could be this way in person. It’s nice. So nice.

“Okay, whatever you wanna call it.” He tangles his fingers with Oikawa’s. “I didn’t say we shouldn’t keep Takeru and Minako waiting just to get you alone. Let’s go?”

Oikawa nods, laughing at Iwaizumi’s comment. “Yep! Let’s go.”

* * *

A few days later, Argentina faces Brazil in the finals, a tough, long, and grueling match between the top teams at the Olympics this year.

And in the end, Argentina emerges the victors. Oikawa wins the gold he’s been dreaming of since childhood. It’s not while among a team decked in red like he’d expected it to be back then, but in sky blue. It’s not Japan’s flag on his chest, but Argentina’s. Javier slings an arm across his shoulders, his celebratory screams right in Oikawa’s ear as he jostles him excitedly.

They won.

Argentina won.

_He’d really done it. He’d really made it here._

As soon as he’s able to, he runs to the place he’s always wanted to be when this moment happened for him, when all his dreams came true. Javier shouts, “Go get your man, Tooru,” as he shoves Oikawa toward the stands, laughter loud as the rest of the team celebrates their hard earned victory.

That’s something he doesn’t need to be told twice.

“Hajime!” Oikawa screams when he runs over to him, launching himself into Iwaizumi’s waiting arms.

“Tooru!” Iwaizumi catches him, catches him because he always does. Always has and always will. Oikawa knows he can count on him forever. He’ll always be there.

“You did it,” Iwaizumi says, close to his ear when he finally sets Oikawa down, their arms still wrapped around each other. Bodies moving in a quiet sway. “Tooru, you really did it.”

“I did it,” Oikawa repeats, still a little in shock, emotions overcoming him as the adrenaline subsides, tears overcoming his vision once again. “I really did it, Hajime.”

“I’m proud of you. So, so fucking proud of you, baby.” Iwaizumi pulls back from the hug, cradles Oikawa’s cheeks in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So much, Hajime.” And he pulls Iwaizumi into a kiss.

There are millions of people watching both here and on TV. There are cameras everywhere, capturing this very moment. But all Oikawa cares about is this moment between the two of them, like they’re the center of each other’s whole world and everyone else has been blocked out. 

“Go get your gold,” Iwaizumi tells him when one of Oikawa’s teammates tells him that they’re going to start the medal ceremony soon.

And that’s exactly what he’ll do. Get his gold medal he’s earned after years of hard work. The moment it’s placed around his neck, he’ll feel like he’s on top of the world, like he can do anything.

And that’s a moment he’ll never, ever be able to forget. The moment he’d proved everyone who has ever doubted him wrong. The moment he’s dreamt of experiencing one day since he was a kid.

The plan may have changed so much over the years, but one thing is still always the same: at the end of it all, when all his dreams from back then came true, he’s standing next to Iwaizumi. The best friend and boyfriend Oikawa could ever ask for. Despite all the distance between them and the time they’d spent apart, they’ve made it here. They’ve made it here together.

Something’s never felt so perfect, so right.

* * *

“Hey, Tooru.”

“Hmm?” Iwaizumi’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. They’d left the celebrations with Oikawa’s team to sneak off on their own, finally a moment of privacy to themselves after a long day spent without that. “What is it, Iwa-chan?”

So many years ago, he walked home from the last game he’d ever play in high school, Iwaizumi by his side, encouraging Oikawa to go for it without hesitating, without looking back.

Now, so many years later, he’s walking through the Olympic Village, gold medal around his neck, and Iwaizumi’s still by his side, holding his hand after he’d achieved everything he’s been working toward for years.

And after the excitement and chaos of it all, now he has what comes after, the quiet seclusion and peace. A moment to be alone with the person who has been beside him through everything. 

Iwaizumi tugs on Oikawa’s hand, pulls him to a stop and turns to face him. “I’ve… I’ve been looking into getting a different job.”

Oikawa frowns, a little surprised by the comment. “What? Why? I thought you loved your job here.”

“Yeah, but another opportunity I’d been looking into came up,” Iwaizumi explains. “And it’s a good one.”

“Well, don’t leave me hanging, Iwa-chan. Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”

Oikawa’s always known that any team would be lucky to have Iwaizumi. He’s amazing at his job, works ridiculously hard and is good at what he does. And Oikawa’s seen every bit of work and dedication Iwaizumi’s poured into his education and his career over the years. He’s so, so, _so_ proud of Iwaizumi, and supports him wherever all of his work will take him.

“I’ve made some good connections over the years,” Iwaizumi says, squeezing Oikawa’s hand as they stand face to face like this, a reminder they’re touching. “They said I’ve got an impressive resume and experience for someone so young. _And_ I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that I happen to be pretty familiar with Argentina’s star setter.”

 _Oh_. He means—

Oikawa sucks in a breath. “Hajime, you… are you saying it would be in…?”

“In San Juan?” Iwaizumi’s grinning, watching Oikawa to process his reaction. “Yeah.”

“You… you’d really want to…?”

It’s the same gutted way he felt when Iwaizumi first told him he wanted to spend a semester in San Juan, when he’d told Oikawa he wanted to be part of his life there, his future there. Except now it’d be much more permanent, something they’ve never been able to have for the almost nine years since Oikawa moved to Argentina.

“Why do you always sound so surprised?” Iwaizumi laughs, hand moving to cradle Oikawa’s cheek when he steps closer. “Babe, we’ve known for a long time this is what the future could be for us. And I want that, but only if you do too.”

Oikawa nods. Is that even a question? “Of course I do! I just don’t want you to make a decision like this for me if…”

They’ve always said that they don’t want each other giving up anything in favor of their relationship. Oikawa’s always told Iwaizumi he doesn’t want him to feel like he has to pack up his whole life and move across the world for him. Just like Iwaizumi’s told him that he doesn’t want Oikawa to feel he needs to settle for coming back to Japan to play there when he’s clearly so happy in Argentina, when he’s found a home there.

“We talked about this, remember?” Iwaizumi grins. “We’ve been talking about it for a long time. No one is giving anything up. I’m doing this because I want to be with you, not because I have to or you’re forcing me to.”

Oikawa knows that. He knows. They’ve talked about it so much, about where they want to go, where they see their futures headed. And they both adamantly agreed they’re in this together for the whole thing, even if it meant continuing to keep up their relationship over such a huge amount of distance. And that’s fine. Sure, it’d be nicer to live together in one place, but they’ve always promised both each other and themselves that they’d never expect the other to move across the globe or give something they love up when they could still make it work like this.

“Hajime, you promised you wouldn’t give anything up for…”

“I’m not. I promise. I wouldn’t bring it up if I wasn’t certain.” He rests his free hand on Oikawa’s chest, over his heart. “And I _am_ certain. I wanna spend my life with you and wake up in the same place as you and fall asleep next to you every night. I wanna get a house with you. And a dog. And kids. I want to have everything with you, Tooru. I want to be with you forever.”

Iwaizumi stands in front of him, one hand cradling Oikawa’s cheek, the other pressed over his beating heart, telling Oikawa he wants to do this, that he wants to continue to build their lives together in the same place after so many years spent apart.

Iwaizumi smiles at him, so warm and full of love. The kind that’s got twenty-seven years worth of memories, of a lifetime together behind it. He leans closer to Oikawa, whispers, “Tooru, te amo con todo mi corazón.”

_I love you with all of my heart._

He wants this too. Everything he can possibly have with Iwaizumi. Falling asleep and waking up together every day and night. A house and a dog and a family. A wedding with all the people close to them there. A golden ring, a physical representation of the infinite promises and love he and Iwaizumi have always shared.

“ _Hajime_ ,” Oikawa whispers, unsuccessfully trying to hold back his tears. But when they do fall, Iwaizumi brushes them away with his thumb, catches Oikawa just like he always has. “Hajime _,_ marry me.” 

“W-what?” The quick falter, the surprise doesn’t deter Oikawa. He pulls back, away from the steady comfort of Iwaizumi’s hands as he fumbles for something, ready to leap into this idea now that he has it, ready to follow what his heart tells him, just like he always has.

“I… I want to spend my whole life with you too. I want to have everything with you.” Oikawa pulls the medal he’s been wearing the entire day off his neck, holds it out for Iwaizumi to take. “So will you marry me? I don’t have a ring because I didn’t plan this, but…”

“I do.” Iwaizumi’s voice cracks a little with emotion. Tears in his eyes, so much love and tenderness and adoration directed at Oikawa that his heart wants to burst.

This time, Oikawa’s the one who’s taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I have a ring.” And he steps back from the close contact, one hand curling around Oikawa’s and before he can even ask what Iwaizumi’s doing, he pulls something out of his pocket—a small square box—before he gets down on one knee and—

Oh. Oh. Oh. _Oh._

This whole exchange—Oikawa’s gold medal as a spontaneous, makeshift ring, and then an actual gold ring Iwaizumi’s holding out for him—is the moment they’ve always talked about. The moment he’s dreamed about for so long and that they’d joked around about before they came to Tokyo for the Olympics, messing with their families to tell them they got engaged that evening in the park.

Iwaizumi squeezes his hand. “I think this answers your question, but I have to ask too. Tooru, will you marry me?”

“ _Yes_.” That’s always been his answer. No doubt in his mind that this is what he wants, that Iwaizumi is exactly who he wants to share his life and all of himself with. He yanks Iwaizumi to his feet before crashing against him in a tight hug, his tears falling freely onto Iwaizumi’s shirt as Oikawa nuzzles his head against his shoulder. “Yes, Hajime.”

“I love you so much.” Iwaizumi slides the ring onto Oikawa’s finger before he pulls him into a kiss.

“I love you too.” Oikawa says when they break the kiss, and he puts the medal in his hands around Iwaizumi’s neck.

He looks down at the medal resting against his chest now. “I can’t wear this. It’s yours…”

“You _can_ because I said so.” He smiles, resting his hands on Iwaizumi’s cheeks. “It’s mine, and I won it, but I wouldn’t have made it here without people like you supporting me. I might have quit a long time ago if it weren’t for you, Hajime. And besides, you know I like to share everything with you. This is just another thing.”

They’ve been sharing everything their whole lives. And now they’ll continue to do that. A house, a bed, a life. This is just another thing to add to the already long list.

“So, you still wanna believe that telepathy thing isn’t real?” he asks, looking at the catch of the ring on his finger in the sunlight, a golden manifestation of the forever they’ll share. That they’ve always been meant to share.

“Maybe.” Iwaizumi takes his hand, brushing his thumb over the ring. “You just went for spontaneous while I went for planned.”

“Did you know you were gonna do this when I joked about getting engaged?” Oikawa laughs, smacking his shoulder. “And you brushed it off to play along with me? That’s sneaky, Iwa-chan.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve known for months.” Iwaizumi smiles. “Bought a ring a long time ago. The reason Minako acted so weird when we made that joke is because she already knew I was gonna propose to you. She’s the only one I told.”

Oikawa laughs, breathless. “You make me so happy, Hajime. Happier than I ever thought I’d be.”

“You deserve it,” Iwaizumi says, hand cupping Oikawa’s cheek. “You deserve all of this. And you make me happy too, Tooru. You always have.”

They’ve got the rest of their lives to do that—to keep bringing each other happiness, to follow wherever it is their hearts take them on the rest of this stretch of forever they’ll share with each other. Hand in hand. Side by side.

The future’s going to be bright, wherever it takes the two of them. And they have all of it to keep looking forward to.

.

.

.

****

****

****

****

**_Paris, 2024_ **

“Hey, what’re you thinking about?”

“Hm?” Oikawa looks up, eyes meeting Iwaizumi’s from where they’re seated across from each other on the bench. 

“You look lost in thought. Don’t tell me you’re overthinking the end of last set.”

“I’m not.” He grins, kicking out his leg a little so it brushes against Iwaizumi’s. “What if I told you I was thinking about you?”

“Be serious,” Iwaizumi murmurs, eyes meeting Oikawa’s when he looks up from his work taping up the finger Oikawa jammed at the end of the last set.

A gold wedding ring sits on Iwaizumi’s finger, its match currently tucked beneath Oikawa’s jersey on a chain.

It still makes Oikawa’s heart melt every time he looks at the ring, every time it brushes against his skin. Even though they’ve been married for a few years now, he never stops feeling that way.

“I am serious!” Oikawa smiles. “I’m at the Olympics going for my second gold medal, and I have the best, most handsome athletic trainer in the world taping my finger. What would my husband think?”

“Probably that you’re a moron,” Iwaizumi mutters, totally fond. “But I’m sure he still loves you anyway.” He pulls his hands away from Oikawa’s. “Finger good?”

Oikawa fiddles with the hand he’d just had taped up. “Good. Just like always.”

Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that he’s made it here. So many years ago, he’d just been a little kid, a boy with his head in the clouds, dreaming of making it somewhere like this. And through all of it, both the good and the bad, difficult moments, he’s had his tether right beside him to catch him when he fell, to keep him from straying too far into dark, destructive places deep within his own mind.

The two of them really have spent thirty years building this life they share together. The house he and Iwaizumi have made their own together has pictures on the wall from their entire lifetime together—like the day twenty years ago now, when they’d worn their poorly attempted, messy paint job on their faces to watch the Olympics together, Oikawa’s mother snapping the moment of their wide-eyed excitement, the same day they’d promised they wanted to make it to the Olympics together. Or there’s the picture Minako had taken of the two of them in the stadium after Oikawa won his first gold medal three years ago when he’d jumped onto Iwaizumi’s back, arms wrapped around his neck as Iwaizumi held him up. From the angle, the gold medal’s hanging off his neck, over Iwaizumi’s shoulder, but their eyes are only on each other, smiles bright and so, so happy.

They’ve got a dog at home, who Oikawa affectionately calls their son to everyone they know, and Iwaizumi always rolls his eyes when he says it, but never disputes it because Oikawa knows he views their dog like their kid too, a member of the little family they want to continue building together when they return from Paris. The pattering of tiny feet and children’s laughter filling a house that had belonged to just them so far.

Iwaizumi smiles, hand resting on the back of Oikawa’s neck, almost like he wants to pull Oikawa closer.

But he doesn’t have to. Oikawa leans in, close enough to eliminate the gap between them and—

“Do you two have a requirement for trying to catch everyone’s attention at the Olympics?” Javier sets his water down nearby, grins at them, teasing. “Wasn’t Tokyo enough for you?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault people are interested in my life.” But Oikawa still stands, presses his hand to Iwaizumi’s thigh before he does, though. The next set will start soon. “But I guess we can spare them.”

“Hey.” Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s wrist before he can go back onto the court. The smile on his face is half serious—an encouragement—and half teasing—a lighthearted gesture of support. “If you lose us a point, go out there and take it back.”

 _Us_. Same team, same space. They spent their first eleven years playing volleyball on the same team, then a few years as rivals before being back to the same team once again more recently. But they’ve always been partners, two halves of a whole, outside of the traditional sense of being on a court together.

Volleyball has given Oikawa gold and silver and bronze, scrapes and bruises on his legs and elbows, and a burning red passion in his heart. It’s given him the courage to build his life in a place so far from where he’d grown up and everything he’s ever known. And it’s because of that Oikawa’s found the place he belongs.

It’s not how he first met Iwaizumi, but volleyball has always tied him to his best friend, his husband. It’s always contributed to how tightly wound together they are because they chose it together, kept it as part of the dreams they wanted to achieve in their futures. And they’ve kept it firmly rooted in their lives from the days they started playing, dreaming of making it to the Olympics together one day, to long after. From miles and miles apart to where they stand together now.

But outside of that, they’ve always been together. They’ve supported each other through everything, stood strong, side by side when they faced anything difficult. Whenever they’ve faced the impossible, the two of them together have fought until they’ve made it here, standing at the top together, invincible.

“Well, that’d be alright for you to say if I actually lost points,” Oikawa jokes back, adjusting his hand so Iwaizumi’s grip on his wrist shifts and their hands lock together, fingers intertwining for just a moment. “But I’m not planning on it.”

“Good.” Iwaizumi laughs at the confident declaration. And he thinks of the times they’ve spoken like this before games, between sets—ten, fifteen, twenty years ago. To anyone else, Oikawa’s comment may seem all teasing, but it’s got a confidence behind it his words had never matched up with when he was young.

Iwaizumi squeezes his hand before they break apart. “Go get your gold, Tooru.”

 _I already have it_ , Oikawa could say, and it’d be completely true. He has his dream and his career, his place and his person. He has everything he could ever want—all within his hands, pieces that make up his heart.

 _But_ adding one more medal to his collection won’t hurt.

So he steps onto this court in Paris, hungry for his second Olympic gold medal. Confidence at his fingertips, demons from years and years ago tucked away. Jersey as blue as the sky on his back and a golden thread as bright as the sun tying him to Iwaizumi.

He doesn’t have a single regret, heart telling him, _this is exactly where I’m meant to be._

**Author's Note:**

> Throws a million pieces of confetti they’re in love!!!! 
> 
> I’m on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_tripsh) and [tumblr](https://oikawaz.tumblr.com/) if you want to drop by or witness me cry about iwaoi/talk about writing because that’s mostly what I do when I’m on there :D


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